Alternatives
by VGWrighte
Summary: Series of Jack and Sam one-shots taking place in alternate realities. CH 26: "What She Deserves." Season 8, the classic "somehow-their-child-from-another-reality-shows-up-and-they-start-a-relationship-so-they-can-raise-the-child" storyline; but atypical.
1. I Got Your Six

Alternatives

The following and subsequent chapters are cut scenes from possible alternate realities. Some chapters are based in established alternate realities (like this chapter), some are stories based in realities entirely of my invention (like chapter 4 - "Redecorating"), and some are based in realities not too different from the established timeline and actually could_ most likely_ take place in the established timeline (like chapter 2 "Grandpa").

Each chapter will be marked by which type of alternate reality it is:

--EAR - Established Alternate Realities

--RMI - Realities of My Invention

--JOR - Just Off Reality

Each chapter also has a rating, most of them are PG, but a few may be construed as T, and are marked accordingly.

Please enjoy.

* * *

Chapter I: Got Your Six

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG

- EAR - Based on the Season 1 episode: "There But For the Grace of God"; takes place slightly before said episode within the alternate reality -

- . - - - . -

General Jack O'Neill looked up when he heard a knock at his door. Seeing Doctor Samantha Carter, he waved her in, keeping his attention on the man on the other end of the red phone.

"Yes, Sir," he said, "We sent another group through this morning." Listening to the President, he watched Sam circle his desk, and slide up onto it, crossing her legs. He couldn't help but eye the bit of Carter leg so tantalizing close to his hands.

He picked up a pen to busy his free hand, and turned his attention back to the President. "Yes, Sir. We'll be ready for the next group by the time they arrive at Peterson." He glanced up at Sam again, he could tell something was bothering her. "Yes, Sir. Good day, Sir."

He hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Evacuating the planet by small groups was not exactly an easy thing to do. He thought about all the people who were being left behind.

He smiled up at Sam. She wasn't being left behind. And really, that was all that mattered to him. "You alright?" He placed his hand on her thigh.

She gripped his hand. "I'm just . . . scared," she admitted.

"You're going through that gate." He turned towards her, slipping his hands behind her calves. He pulled his chair closer to her, settling her feet on the edge, between his legs. "There is no way you're _not_ gonna go through that gate."

She wrung her hands. "That's not what scares me the most."

He squeezed her calves. "What does?"

She met his gaze. "You not following me," she whispered.

He gave her knee a soft knuckle punch. "Don't worry, Carter," he said with a smile, "I've got your six."

She smiled, and leaned forward wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder. He slipped his arms around her back, and rubbed small circles gently.

He just held her for a moment, giving her a few seconds of actual comfort before reverting back to his joking self. One of his hands drifted down her back, and settled a little south of her hips. "Mmm, I like havin' your six."

He knew he had done his job as 'The Good Fiancé' when, despite herself, she laughed.

- . - - - . -


	2. II Never Alone

Alternatives

Chapter II: Never Alone

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: G

- RMI - Based on the Season 2 episodes: "Line of Duty," and "The Tok'ra" Parts I and II; takes place during and between said episodes -

Just for clarification: words in _italics_ are Sam's thoughts, and those in **bold** are Jolinar's thoughts, but I'll try to be clear with whose thinking.

- . - - - . -

"Oh, God, Sir! He's telling you the truth!" Sam shouted at Colonel O'Neill as he walked away. She sunk back into the bunk and pulled her knees up to her chest. _They're never going to believe me, _she thought to herself.

**Come now, Samantha**, a voice still foreign to her head said. **I am not like the Goa'uld. They will realize that our relationship is a symbiotic one**.

"To tell you the truth," she said aloud, still unused to conversing with another person inside her own mind. She couldn't identify the voice as loud or soft, masculine or feminine, alien or human . . . "I'm not sure that I believe that."

**But you just told Colonel O'Neill that I was not lying.**

Sam messaged her temples. "I know . . . It's just that . . . This feels like . . . There are just so many thoughts in my head right now. I'm not sure which ones are mine."

**They are all yours. Well, that's not exactly true. They are ours.** Jolinar was silent for a moment. **And that peculiar feeling you are wondering about is the symbiote version of a smile. You should get used to it, I like to smile.**

"Was that a joke? Because it's not making me feel any better. Though, I guess you already know that." Sam paused as the feeling came back, a little stronger, giving her the impression that Jolinar was chuckling. "I'm never going to have my head to myself again, am I?"

**With all due respect, Samantha, it's my head now too. I know that doesn't make you feel any better either. But, I will gladly find another host who is willing to blend. I am sorry that I had to force you into this, but . . . you know, the will to survive.**

"I don't know. I want to get you out of here and just go back to the way things were . . . But . . ."

**You could learn a lot and that is simply too tempting. We have that in common.**

Sam laid back. "But everything is just so jumbled right now. I'm not even sure which thoughts are mine. I keep getting reminded of something, but I don't know what or why. It's just overwhelming. I think I need an aspirin."

**Things will become less chaotic over time. Our minds will blend, giving us access to each others' memories, but a distinct barrier will form preserving a sense of self for both of us. The Goa'uld do not blend, but simply suppress the identity of the host. However, we believe that much can be learned by both parties from the shared experiences.**

"I'll be honest." She laughed a little. "I guess I'm always gonna be honest . . . Anyway, I'm more than a little scared."

**Most hosts are. The last two hosts I had were also quite intimidated, but it is a rewarding experience and we learned to depend upon each other. Samantha, things can be the same with us. If you choose to allow me to stay, I will always be right here, supporting you. You will never be alone.**

Sam took a deep breath. "That's part of what I'm afraid of."

- . - . -

As Sam slowly regained consciousness, she heard voices around her. It took her a few moments to realize what was going on and what was being said.

"Captain Carter is alive, Sir, as is the symbiote."

"So there's still a snake in her brain?" another voice asked.

"Yes, Sir. It was lucky that you caught that Goa'uld assassin when you did, if he had had a few more minutes I don't know what would have happened. It's very possible that he could have killed both Captain Carter and the symbiote," the first voice said. Fraiser, Doctor Fraiser, that's who it was.

The other voice was Colonel O'Neill, she realized.

"Colonel?" she said, her voice sounding slightly strange to her own ears, but at least she wasn't speaking in her new 'Tok'ra voice.'

She opened her eyes to see the Colonel's skeptical face. "Carter?"

"Yes, Sir. It's me."

"How do I know that?'

She sat up slowly, Jolinar clearing most of the haze in her head. "We just saved the planet from Apophis' attack, which we found out about from Daniel's trip to an alternate reality, which you are still a little skeptical about. The whole reason you're still out here doing what we're doing is to find and save Skaara."

"Hey!" the Colonel stopped her. "Just because you know the things that Carter knows doesn't mean you're her."

"Sir, it's me."

"And that's supposed to convince me?"

"I don't know, Sir. I guess wouldn't want to believe me either."

"You guess?" he repeated.

She took a deep breath. "I don't know what else to say or how to convince you."

"You," he pointed, "Or . . . the snake offered to leave; jump ship and find another host. That would go a long way in convincing me."

"I don't want her to go," Sam said without thinking.

**Samantha**, Jolinar's voice popped up in her head. **Do you think this is such a wise decision? You and I both know that they may never believe that I am not a Goa'uld and in complete control of your body and suppressing your mind if you say that I don't want to leave.**

_Well,_ Sam thought to Jolinar, slowly getting the hang of having a conversation in one's head. _We'll just have to work together. But I'd like you to stay if you're willing._

That feeling of Jolinar's smile came back. **I would very much like to stay, Samantha. I like you.**

"You don't want her to go?" Colonel O'Neill asked slowly.

"Yes, Sir," Sam nodded. "Jolinar, my symbiote. I would like her to stay exactly where she is."

"See, that doesn't go in convincing me that I'm not talking to Jolinar now and _she's_ not just trying to find permanent lodgings in the Hotel de la Carter."

**Told you.**

_Quiet, you._

"I don't have any answers for you, Sir. I'm new at this, too. And Jolinar would be happy to leave. _I_ want her to stay. I can already remember a lot of things that didn't happen to me, but to her. From what she's told me, there is more to come. I want to learn what she has to teach me.

"Go ahead and put me in a cell until one of us comes up with some way to convince you."

The Colonel turned to Doctor Fraiser. "You heard her. Lock her up until someone comes up with an idea." He walked out of the Infirmary angrily.

**I know he's your commanding officer and you respect him, but I do not like that man.**

_He's not that bad once you get to know him._

**So you say,** Jolinar sounded as if she did not believe her. **So you say.**

Sam watched the doorway that the Colonel has just left through for a moment before turning her attention to Doctor Fraiser. "You don't believe me either, do you?"

She forced a smile. "I . . . Not really. I want to, I do. It's just . . . I remember what Major Kowalski was like when he was infect--when he had a Goa'uld."

Sam nodded. "You're right. It would be more believable that I wasn't me, but the Goa'uld trying to gain your trust. Whenever you're ready, I'll go back to confinement."

**If this is what our life is going to be like, I would prefer leave.**

"Why don't you just stay right there and not make any sudden moments? Let's just start with that," Fraiser said.

Sam smiled and settled down a little into the bed, folding her hands_. Give it some time, Jolinar. Things will get better. We can find a way to convince them._

- . - . -

"You're going to take us to the Tok'ra?" Colonel asked from the other side of a set of bars.

"Yes, Colonel," Jolinar said. "I am willing to take you to my people. An alliance would benefit us both."

"An alliance?"

"Yes, Sir," Sam took over. "They have an extensive movement. The SGC could help the Tok'ra enact some of their bigger plans and the Tok'ra could give us access to some of their technology . . . ships, weapons, medical technology."

"First of all," O'Neill waved his hands around. "Could I speak to one of you at a time? Not to say that I believe that the non-Goa'uld-y voice is Carter. And did you say 'ships and weapons'?"

Sam smiled. "I did, Sir."

"I'll see what I can do," he replied before turning and leaving the room without another word.

_Like him now?_ Sam smirked.

**He's starting to grow on me.** Jolinar paused for a second. **Like a tumor.**

Sam smiled. _That's what I thought._

- . - . -

"You sure this is the right place?" Colonel O'Neill asked, surveying the surroundings of the gate.

Jolinar raised Sam's eyebrow at him.

"Oh, right . . ." He concealed a small harrumph. "What now?"

"We wait," Jolinar said. "They know we are here."

Sam sat down on the steps in front of the gate and indicated the others do the same. She was not surprised when Daniel was the only one to join her; the Colonel, Teal'c, and SGs -3 and -4 setting up a small perimeter and keeping on the alert.

"I'm glad you're back out here with us," Daniel said quietly, once the others were just out of earshot.

Sam smiled at him. "Does that mean you believe me?"

He took a deep breath. "No, not really. I still have this nagging feeling that you aren't Sam, but Goa'uld just trying to trick us. But . . . It still feels good to have you out here."

"I missed it too, Daniel." Sam smiled at him before turning her attention inward. _Jolinar, you seem . . . anxious._

**Oh, it's just that I'm excited to be back with my people after so long.**

_We've been together for - what? - five months? And you think you can try to lie to me? It's that blonde man with the long face that keeps popping into my memory, isn't it?_

Sam could tell that Jolinar was slightly embarrassed, meaning that she was correct. _So, who is he? Let's have it._

**His name is Martouf, and his symbiote is Lantash. Lantash was my mate.**

"What!?" Sam blurted out.

Everyone looked at her.

She blushed. "Sorry. Still not quite used to the whole 'talking in my head' thing."

Sam waited patiently while Jolinar stopped rolling with laughter. **At least you're as embarrassed as I am now**, Jolinar said while she regained her composure. **Lantash was my mate, and my previous host, Rosha, was Martouf's mate.**

_You say 'was.'_

**I will not coerce you into anything you do not wish. If you choose Martouf, then Lantash and I will be together once again. If you do not, then not.**

_I don't want to keep you from someone you love._

**And I do not want you to be forced into an intimate relationship. It somewhat defeats the purpose, does it not?**

Sam agreed silently and continued to wait.

After several more minutes, perhaps even as long as a half an hour, a strange sensation arose within Sam, and before she could do anything, Jolinar had control and stood. "They're here," Jolinar said.

Sure enough, a dozen or so Tok'ra appeared out of seemingly nowhere, surrounding them. She looked around for one man in particular. An infectious smile swept across her face when she saw him.

"Carter!" O'Neill barked.

Jolinar rushed Sam over to him. "Martouf," she said.

He looked over at another Tok'ra. "I do not know this woman."

Sam shook her head. "You don't know me, but you are well acquainted with my symbiote."

Her eyes flashed and Jolinar spoke, "Jolinar of Malkshur."

A smile spread across Martouf's face. "Truly?"

Sam nodded. "Truly," Jolinar said.

He threw his arms around her. "You're safe."

"Martouf," Sam spoke. "We didn't come just for Jolinar to return home. While me becoming her host was a little bit of an accident, she's going to stay. My name is Samantha Carter; I'm from a planet called Earth. We would like your help to fight the Goa'uld."

Martouf leaned back from her, keeping his hands on her upper arms. "It seems there is much to discuss."

- . - . -

**Where we go is your choice, Samantha. Know that. I will not be unhappy if we do not stay with the Tok'ra, as long as we visit now and again.**

_I just don't know, Jolinar. The way things are at the SGC. I mean, we worked so hard for so many months for them to trust me again. I don't want to just walk out on them. But you and I could do great things for the Tok'ra. And my dad is here. We've never been very close. But now we have something in common._

**An alien symbiote wrapped around your spines?**

_You know what I mean._

**I do. But do not worry about me. I have lived many human lifetimes and I will live many more. I am not martyring myself here, I am living new experiences.**

_What about Martouf?_

**What about Colonel O'Neill?**

_What about him!?_

**As long as we're talking about potential lovers.**

_You and I both know that there is nothing between the Colonel and myself._

**You and I both know that isn't true.** Jolinar paused in smug self-satisfaction. **Speechless, are we, Samantha?** Jolinar waited for a few more moments while Sam remained silent. **You're speaking with yourself, here. You might as well be honest.**

Sam fumed. _Fine. You're right. I want him. Bad. I have for some time now. What do you want me to do about it?_

Jolinar's tone softened. **I know that the only thing keeping you away from him is the Air Force. And I know you love it. To be honest, I like it myself. But the Tok'ra give you a good excuse to not be in the Air Force anymore.**

_Are you telling me to quit the Air Force, and live with the Tok'ra just so I can maintain a long distance relationship with Colonel O'Neill?_

**I'm not telling you to do anything. I am just giving you options, because I won't decide for you. When you're happy, I'm happy. **

_I don't want you to be alone._

**Oh, I'll never be alone, Samantha. I have you. **

_I just don't know, Jolinar._

**That's okay. This is you asking you a very important question: what do you want, Samantha? Think about yourself here. Don't think about me; don't think about Martouf, Colonel O'Neill, Doctor Jackson, Teal'c, General Hammond, your father, or anyone else for that matter. What do you want?**

Sam thought for a second.

_I want to stay on SG-1._

Sam felt the tickle of Jolinar's smile. **Then we will stay.**

- . - . -

"Well, Colonel, Captain Carter has decided that she would like to stay, if there is still a place for her on SG-1."

Jack smiled at the General. "There's always a spot on SG-1 for Samantha Carter, Sir."

"You sure you're alright with . . ."

"The snake in her skull, Sir?"

Hammond chuckled. "Yes, that."

"She's still Carter, Sir. Maybe the multi-personality edition, but still Carter."

Hammond smiled. "Good. I'm glad you see it that way."

- . - . -

Sam sat in her lab, trying to increase the efficiency of the naquadah reactors. Jolinar knew a lot about naquadah and was a great deal of help.

"You two ever gonna go home?" Colonel O'Neill asked, walking into her lab like he owned the place.

"Excuse me, Sir?" she looked up from her computer.

"You and the hitch hiker."

**Did he just call me a 'hitch hiker'?**

Sam laughed. "Yes, Sir. _We_ were just finishing up a few simulations."

"Well, tell Jo to pack it up. Daniel and Teal'c are waiting; we're going to grab something to eat."

**Did he just call me 'Jo'?**

Sam shut down her computer and stood up. "Just give me a few minutes to change into civvies; I'll meet you all topside."

"Alright, Carter, but hurry up. I'd hate to leave without you and make you eat alone."

_I never eat alone_, she thought, _I have Jo_. "Yes, Sir," she said aloud, heading to the locker room.

**Don't you start calling me that, too, or you will be alone.**

_Come on, you're stuck with me now. It was you who said that I'm never alone; not anymore."_

- . - - - . -

- Didn't like that ending? Well, me neither, not really. So, here's the alternate ending to this alternate reality -

- . - - - . -

**That's okay. This is you asking you a very important question: what do you want, Samantha? Think about yourself here. Don't think about me; don't think about Martouf, Colonel O'Neill, Doctor Jackson, Teal'c, General Hammond, your father, or anyone else for that matter. What do you want?**

Sam thought for a second.

_I want Jack O'Neill._

Sam felt the tickle of Jolinar's smile. **We' find a way to make it happen.**

- . - . -

"Captain Carter is resigning her commission, and taking up a liaison position between the SGC and the Tok'ra."

"Sir, there is always a position for her on SG-1."

Hammond smiled. "I'm glad you feel that way, Colonel, but . . ."

"Sir, I know that she may be the multi-personality, snakehead edition, but she's still Samantha Carter."

"I know, Colonel. But, I cannot justify have the flag team of an Air Force operation only be composed of 25% Air Force personnel. I understand that the Captain has quite a few years under her belt, but the principle still stands.

"Jacob is going to work with the Tok'ra as one of their normal operatives and Captain Carter will divide her time between here and the Tok'ra bases. I know she's part of your team, Jack, but the decision has been made."

"Yes, Sir." Jack didn't wait to be dismissed, but simply walked out. He headed towards Daniel's office. They were all supposed to have dinner tonight, and even though he didn't feel very 'merry,' he knew that he should spend as much time with his team before it completely broke up.

- . - . -

Sam walked up to Colonel O'Neill's door, making sure to lock Carpenter's car behind her. Carpenter was going to be off-world for a few days and graciously lent Sam her vehicle.

She took a deep breath, but didn't knock.

**If you're not going to knock, I am.**

_Just give me a second._

**Come on, Samantha. You quit the Air Force so you could do this. You haven't seen him in three months. Knock.**

Giving in to herself, Sam knocked on the door and only had to wait a moment for the Colonel to answer it. "Hi, Sir," she said with a smile.

"Carter," he sounded happy to see her. "Come in." He stepped aside, welcoming her into his home. "Want a beer?"

"Sure, thank you." She walked into the living room, while he made a detour to the kitchen. She surveyed the pictures in the room. There was one of his son, one of himself, his son, and his ex-wife, and six of SG-1 -- the SG-1 she was on, not the new one with Captain Aarons.

She took a seat when he handed her a beer and took a seat himself.

"So what have you and the Tok'ra been up to?" he asked.

**He must be really happy to see you, Samantha. He's never this talkative about anything but 'The Simpsons' or 'The Wizard of Oz.'**

"The usual, slowly undermining the Goa'uld by covert operations and annoyance."

**Hey! We have a plan!**

"Jolinar keeps telling me that we have a plan, but the more I hear of it: they don't have a real plan. They have a general strategy that they're hoping will pay off in the end."

"How is the Old Girl?" he asked.

**Did he just call me 'The Old Girl?'**

"Jolinar? She's doing well, settling in and providing a running commentary on my life. Sometimes it's actually quite amusing."

"Carter," his tone softened, "What are you doing here?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Things are a lot different than they were."

He nodded. "Yeah."

Sam paused, rethinking her plan of what to say.

**You practiced this a thousand times, and now you're rethinking?**

"When Daniel came back through the mirror on 233, he said that the alternate versions of us were engaged."

He took a sip of his beer. "Yeah."

**Where are you going with this?** **Even I'm confused, and I'm the one in your head.**

"Your objection to that was that it wasn't allowed because of the regulations."

"Yeah," he agreed again.

"Not because you thought it couldn't work."

"Yeah."

**That's it. **Sam's eyes flashed. "Samantha wants to know if you want to get dinner tomorrow evening," Jolinar said.

_Jolinar!_

**Oh come on, I just saved fifteen minutes of uncomfortable silence.**

The Colonel slowly put down his beer, startled by what just happened.

"I am so sorry, Sir. Sometimes Jolinar doesn't know when to shut up!"

"Just promise me one thing, Carter," he said.

"Anything, Sir."

"Don't call me 'Sir' when we're on our date."

**Ha! If I had a tongue I'd stick it out at you.**

"Date?"

He smiled. "That's what it is, isn't it?"

**Yes, that is what it is.**

The infectious smile spread back across her face. "I guess so, Sir . . . Jack? O'Neill?'

He took another sip of his beer. "I'll cut you a deal. You call me 'Jack,' and I'll call you 'Sam' and 'Jo.' Good?"

**Only if he doesn't call me 'Jo.'**

She nodded and took a drink of her beer, ignoring the voice in her head. "Sounds good . . . Jack." She had a feeling that she wasn't ever going to be alone again.

- . - - - . -


	3. III Grandpa

Alternatives

Chapter III: Grandpa

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: G

- JOR - Based on the Season 2 episode: "Show and Tell"; takes place immediately following said episode -

- . - - - . -

"I miss Jack."

Jacob looked up at the Reetu-engineered human boy, Charlie.

"And Sam."

Jacob smiled. "I miss them, too, Charlie." In the past, Jacob had been fine with not being in Sam's life, however Selmak made him more sentimental than he had been in the past.

Charlie regarded him carefully, obviously wondering why Jacob missed them. So, Jacob smiled. "Sam is my daughter," he explained.

"Oh," Charlie nodded. He thought for a moment. "Does that mean that you're my . . . grandfather?"

Jacob's brain tickled with Selmak's roaring laughter. "What?!" he asked.

"Because Jack is going to be my dad," Charlie explained, "Sam will be my mom. Won't that make you my grandfather?"

Jacob could decide whether to smile or frown, so Selmak took control with a smile. "You see, Charlie," she explained, "the group of Tau'ri that Samantha and Colonel O'Neill belong to have certain rules about familial relationships. Even though they may want to formalize a bond between them, Samantha and O'Neill could not in their current positions."

"I don't understand."

Selmak put Jacob's hand on Charlie's shoulder. "As much as Jacob denies it, it is obvious that, while there is only professional behavior, the sentiments shared by the officers are far more than professional in nature. In order for them to make a formal commitment and Samantha to become your mother, one of them would have to make a dramatic life decision and leave their current career behind."

Charlie frowned. "That doesn't make any sense."

Jacob reasserted himself. "It makes perfect sense!"

"But if those sentiments exist, why does it matter if they consciously act upon them or not? They will constantly be acting upon them unconsciously."

"They aren't supposed to have those feelings," Jacob said.

"But they do."

Jacob opened his mouth to respond, but had no answer. Fortunately, Selmak did. "But they conceal that fact extremely well," she explained. "At least to those who want to see it. Case and point being Jacob."

Charlie thought for a few moments. "So, Sam isn't going to be my mom when I go back to Earth?"

Jacob shook his head slowly, having regained his composure. "I'm afraid not, Charlie."

Charlie looked up and smiled at Jacob hopefully. "Can you still be my grandfather?"

Jacob smiled. "I would love to."

Charlie reached out to Jacob for a hug, which the Tok'ra/Tau'ri gladly returned.

"Do you know when I can go back to Earth and Jack can be my dad?" he asked.

Jacob shook his head. "No, I don't."

"But you'll stay with me, right Jacob?"

Jacob smiled. "Of course." He paused. "And call me 'Grandpa.'"

Charlie smiled. "Okay, Grandpa."

- . - - - . -


	4. IV View Point

Alternatives

Chapter IV: View Point

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG

- EAR - Based on the Season 3 episode: "Point of View," Doctor Carter's reality; takes place approximately three days before said episode within said alternate reality -

- . - - - . -

Doctor Samantha Carter pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. The numbers on her computer screen were blending together. She took a deep breath and tried to think. She was trying to finish the analysis of the Goa'uld vessel in orbit.

Unfortunately, it looked as if there were absolutely no weaknesses to exploit. They had no chance of taking it down.

Their last option was to simply try to hold the mountain. They had evacuated a lot of people, but they were hoping that if they could hold the mountain, everyone could eventually return to Earth.

She scoffed. Not likely.

"How long have you been awake, Doctor?" a voice asked from behind her.

Her eyes snapped open and she turned around to see the voice. "Good evening, General. I didn't hear you come in."

"How long, Doctor?" the Texan asked again.

Sam tried to add in her head, but the numbers wouldn't stay still.

He smiled and nodded. "Exactly. Go get some sleep."

"Sir," she tried to protest.

"You don't know how long you've been awake. By my count, it's been at least a few days. Go get some sleep." He smiled gently and put his hand on her shoulder. "Your daddy was in the Air Force, I know you know how to follow orders."

She clasped his hand, thinking of her father -- who had died last year after losing a battle to cancer. She smiled. "Good night, Sir."

- . - . -

General Hammond watched the young Ph.D. walk out of her lab and head towards some base quarters. He had promised Jacob he would protect her, but he wasn't sure that he could. He left her lab, looking for Colonel O'Neill, that man needed some sleep, too.

When George found him, he was sitting in the briefing room, watching the latest security report, his eyes slipping closed.

"If you're going to sleep, Colonel, you might as well do it in a bed. Preferably one with your wife in it."

O'Neill snapped upright, pretending that he was wide awake. "I'm fine, Sir."

George tried not to laugh. The man wasn't a good actor, even when he wasn't dead tired. "No you're not. You haven't slept in days. Go sleep."

"I will, Sir, tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow, Colonel." He smiled and dropped his 'General' voice. "Go get some sleep, son. There's nothing you can do in the next few hours that isn't already being done."

O'Neill smiled, stood up, and closed the folder he had had open. "You're right, Sir."

George watched the Colonel leave, slowly. He was walked like he was tired. He smiled to himself, trying to lighten his own mood, knowing that it wouldn't work. He sat down in his chair and stared at the lack of reports on his desk.

The reports stopped coming in when the Goa'uld arrived in orbit. Apparently, no one wanted to be reading (or writing, for that matter) reports when cities were literally being blown off the face of the planet. He didn't know what he could do twenty-eight levels underneath a mountain.

Just about every military asset on the planet had been expended and none of it made any difference. He was pretty sure that a few well placed trident missiles would have done wonders if the Goa'uld didn't have shields.

The only thing they could do was fight hand to hand, and the Goa'uld were avoiding that.

George knew that the Jaffa would eventually come and they would have to fight for this mountain. He had the awful feeling that they were all going to fight and die for this mountain.

- . - . -

Sam wasn't asleep when she heard someone come into the room. There hadn't been a knock, and whoever it was was trying to be quiet. She knew it was Jack. She heard him take off his boots and drop his jacket on the floor and then she felt him climb into the bed next to her.

He sidled close to her. Brushed some of her hair out of the way, he placed a gentle kiss on her neck before wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight.

She relaxed into his embrace, feeling safe, at least for a short time, once again.

- . - . -

They were awoken by klaxons blaring, causing them both to jump and Jack to tighten his grip on Sam. They both laid frozen on their bed, trying to figure out what was happening.

"Assume perimeter defense stations," Sergeant Harriman's voice came over the 1MC. "This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill!"

They jumped out of bed, donned their shoes, and rushed to the control room.

"Sir, what's going on?" Jack asked General Hammond as they walked into the control room.

Hammond simply pointed to one of the monitors hanging from the ceiling. It showed a unit of Jaffa firing their weapons at one of the large doors at the entrance to the mountain.

"Sir, I have to get up there," Jack said.

Sam shot her gaze from the screen to Jack. She almost shouted in protest, but he silenced her with a single glance.

Hammond nodded. "Go ahead, Colonel. We'll monitor you from here."

Sam followed Jack out, and she knew he knew she was on his heels because he rounded a corner and stopped abruptly, pulling her into his arms as she caught up to him.

"C'mere," he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. He kissed her forehead. "I'm coming back."

He released her and flashed a cocky smile.

She faked a smile in return and watched him walk away before returning to the control room to watch the Jaffa's slow progress. Another screen had pulled up the image from the other side of the door where a group of Marines and Airmen were setting up a barricade.

They watched for what seemed like hours while the Jaffa slowly made their way through the blast door. It was an excruciatingly long process.

But, once they made it, they were through, and everything hit the fan.

They all watched in silence as both Jaffa and humans hit the ground.

She watched Jack give up his position from behind a corner and advance, taking some fallen man's place. Time seemed to slow as she saw an energy bolt catch his shoulder and send him flying backward.

"Jack!" she let out a small shriek and covered her hand with her mouth.

Sam quickly became aware of a presence behind her and tore her eyes from the monitor just long enough to know that it was General Hammond. She continued to stare at Jack even after she noticed the weapons fire cease.

The Jaffa advanced unchallenged, checking over the bodies for survivors. One of them kicked Jack, who grabbed his pistol and fired a round into the Jaffa's face and fired at the other Jaffa until his clip was empty. Sam gasped when another Jaffa kicked him in the chest.

Jack and the other survivors -- two Marines and an airman -- were lined up on their knees. Nothing happened, as it appeared the Jaffa were waiting for something. Moments later, the First Prime walked in. He was a very large black man with a thick tail of hair from the center of his bald head.

He spoke words they could not hear.

Jack replied, most likely flippantly.

The First Prime spoke a few more words and lowered his safe weapon towards one of the Marines. Jack didn't move. The First Prime fired.

Sam jumped as the Marine fell back, dead.

The First Prime spoke again, and Jack didn't answer. He shot the other Marine and turned to the Airman. When Jack didn't answer, he shot the Airman as well.

Tears were in Sam's eyes, ready to fall. She knew exactly what was going to happen. She prayed that it wouldn't.

The First Prime spoke again, presumably asking the same question that had gotten the others killed.

Jack looked up at the camera at the end of the hall. Sam felt like he was looking right at her. She knew that he was holding her image in his mind by the way he smiled before turning back to the First Prime and saying something; mostly along the lines of 'Go to hell.'

Time slowed again as the First Prime fired his weapon into Jack's chest, sending him sprawling backward.

Sam let out another shriek as the tears in her eyes fell loose.

She couldn't tear her eyes from screen. She didn't realize she was shaking until General Hammond turned her away from the horrible sight and pulled her to his chest.

Sam sobbed, trying to breath.

Jack was dead.

What was she going to do now?

- . - - - . -


	5. V Redecorating

Alternatives

Chapter V: Redecorating

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG-T

- RMI - Based on the Season 4 episode: "Upgrades" and (to a lesser extent) the Season 8 episode "Moebius"; takes place during "Upgrades" ; takes place in an alternate reality in which Jack O'Neill is not an officer in the Air Force, but an enlisted Airman, and where Samantha Carter is similar to the Carter defined in the alternate reality of the episodes "Moebius" parts I and II -

- . - - - . -

First Sergeant Jack O'Neill examined the alien thingy on his wrist. He felt awesome.

Major Jackson had already developed some freaky abilities -- speed, strength, and he could read really fast. While he hadn't really noticed anything like that, he did notice that he was a little more hungry than usual.

Sam had been a little worried about putting the thing on, constantly reminding them that she was just an astrophysicist. He remembered her tell him that she was shocked that they gave her a gun when they went off world.

_"I don't like guns,"_ she had told him once.

_"Me neither."_ He had answered flippantly, _"How do you feel about explosives?"_

_"Those I like a little better."_

She was even more blown away that they let her go off world in the first place.

She wasn't exactly the military type.

Her last job had been reading other people's reports for the Department of Aerospace before they went to the director.

He often imagined her then. His nerdy little Carter sitting behind a desk covered in manila envelopes and loose sheets of paper. With those thick black glasses that were so sexy. And a slightly oversized sweater and a skirt that disguised her hot body.

All the other nerdy scientists simply ignoring her, seeing right through her. And her, just waiting for someone to come find her; someone to see how smart she was, how funny she was, how smoking hot she was.

He was glad that someone was him.

He looked up when he heard someone enter the room. It was his sexy little scientist and Major Jackson.

Jackson and Sam sat down on the other side of the briefing table. He watched Sam sit down and wondered why she wasn't wearing her glasses.

Moments later they were joined by Teal'c. General West, Doctor Fraiser, and the Tok'ra arrived moments after that. Both he and Jackson jumped to their feet upon the entrance of the General.

"As you were," he said, taking his own seat.

"SG-1 seems to reacting to the armbands well," the Tok'ra explained. "Major Jackson has already exhibited an incredible increase in both physical and mental abilities. Doctor Carter has also shown remarkable positive physical side effects; most notably, her eyesight."

That explained it.

"I have not yet been able to examine Sergeant O'Neill, however, if he is reacting in a similar manner to the rest of SG-1, he probably is experiencing similar affects."

"Sir," Jackson turned to General West. "Permission to return SG-1 to active duty.'

The General shook his head. "I don't think I'm quite ready to do that, Major. We still don't know if there are going to be any negative effects from these armbands. I want you all to stay here on base while Doctor Fraiser gets a handle on this."

"With all due respect, Sir," Jack said, "I feel great. Hungry, but great."

Major Jackson made a guttural sound. "I'm hungry, too."

"Your bodies are craving more fuel to replace what you're burning so quickly," Doctor Fraiser explained.

"Permission to go to lunch, Sir," Jackson asked.

General West raised his eyebrow. "Can you, at least, wait for the end of this meeting?"

Jackson nodded. "Yes, Sir."

- . - . -

Jack, Sam, Teal'c, and Major Jackson sat at one of the tables in the commissary, enjoying a large lunch.

"Ya know what's weird?" Jackson asked.

They all looked up. "What?" Sam asked.

"Anise . . . came on to me today."

Everyone one silent, and Sam dropped her eyes to her plate, suddenly feeling out of place.

"She is an attractive woman," Teal'c said at length.

Jackson chuckled. "Oh that's not the problem." He took a bite of his sandwich. "It's just that with all this super strength, I wouldn't want to hurt her. Now, if she had one of these things on, too," he chuckled again.

Jack and Sam's eyes drifted towards each other, thinking the exact same thing.

"I think I left . . . some of my . . . data at home." Her words dripped from her mouth like a leaky faucet.

"And, I think I . . . left the grill on," Jack said, matching her speech pattern.

The Major regarded Jack incredulously. "You had the grill on this morning, Sergeant?"

Before Jack could think up a plausible answer, Sam spoke. "For breakfast, we had steak and eggs. He made the steak."

"And she made the eggs," he offered.

The Major kept his eyes on Jack. "Let's have a word, Sergeant." Jack followed him out of the room. "The grill's not on, is it?"

"Umm, no, Sir."

Major Jackson simply nodded. "Go on, O'Neill," he said, motioning broadly towards the door. "And, Sergeant!" he called, stopping Jack at the door. "Drive safe. Don't speed. _Both_ hands on the wheel."

"Aye, Sir," Jack responded before turning again and nearly running to get Sam and get to their truck.

- . - . -

He did speed on the way home. Not too fast, but fast enough that he could have gotten a hefty ticket. He and Sam jumped out of the truck and were careful to shut the doors so they wouldn't break under their new found strength.

Jack followed Sam into the house, once again being careful with the door behind him. He followed her down the hall to the bed room and enveloped her in his arms.

He couldn't decide whether he liked her better with or without glasses. Because, and he was being completely honest, those glasses were sexy; but the uninhibited view of her eyes boring into him was intoxicating.

Within seconds, it didn't matter; he couldn't see her eyes anymore, his lips buried in her neck.

He felt her hands snake down his body and grab his belt. She gave it a light tug and they both froze when they heard it snap. She took a step back, the broken belt in her hand. The buckle was bent and the fabric had snapped like it was . . . something that snapped easily.

Sam swallowed hard. "Holy Hannah."

"Oh, hot damn," Jack breathed.

Both of their eyes were locked on her hands and the broken belt between them. Slowly, their gazes lifted and their eyes met, thinking the exact same thing.

"You're not sentimentally attached to that outfit, are you?" he asked.

She looked at herself, a very plain skirt and button down shirt. She shook her head, eyes wide.

A thick grin spread across his face as he grabbed her, maybe a little harder than he should have, but he didn't care. Hell, he hardly even noticed. He attacked her collar bone again, pausing only to grip her shirt collar in his teeth, ripping it from her skin, sending the shirt to pieces.

She let loose a small giggle and grabbed his neckline and yanked down, tearing his skivvy shirt open down the center.

Jack never wanted to take that armband off.

Ever.

- . - . -

Sam lay sprawled over Jack's chest, covered in what was left of their sheets and their bedspread, on top of their bed -- which had a frame now broken in several places.

"Whoa," he said.

She nodded.

"That was awesome."

"Yeah," she replied, her slightly nervous voice deep in her throat.

She never would have thought that in a million years she would break a bed in such a fashion. She also never thought that she would have found someone like Jack O'Neill to break it with. Come on, she was just about the biggest nerd . . . on the planet.

Before Jack, the last guy who had his eye on her was Rodney McKay. She was pretty sure that he described her as a "sexy librarian."

She had scoffed at the description. She was much smarter than a librarian. She was an astrophysicist, damn it!

That was another thing she couldn't believe: her use of profanity. She knew she had gotten that from Jack.

Her attention turned back to her husband when he grabbed her hip and pulled her on top of him.

"We're gonna need new sheets," she said, confusing him for a second. She loved his confused face.

"And a new bed," he answered, catching on, and running his hands up her sides.

She looked up towards the headboard, which was cracked, and noticed the wall behind it. The drywall was broken, she hadn't even noticed that before. "And a new wall," she said before leaning down to him and placing a kiss on his lips.

Jack's eyes followed hers and saw the damage. "Looks like we're gonna have to do some redecorating."

She giggled and ran her finger down his chest. "Yeah."

"What do you think about the color peridot?"

"What do you think about steak?" she asked.

"In our bedroom?"

She shook her head. "No, right now."

A light growl came from his throat. "Yeah, let's have some steak."

Sam rolled off him and went to the dresser in search of clothing not in shreds. She let out moan when he wrapped his arms around her waist, settling his hands on her thighs and tucking his chin to her neck. "Then I was thinking about having some wife."

She moaned again and stretched her neck against his lips. "That sounds nice."

"Ya know," he said, "if I have to live with broken furniture for the rest of my life, these things are totally worth it."

She turned enough so he could see her glaring at him.

"Umm," he tried to cover. "It's not that things weren't good before. Things were great before. I mean, you're hot."

She held her ground, even though she was just joking with him. She loved to throw him through a loop and make him as nervous as she has been around him at first. She remembered the first time he called her hot -- she had almost choked.

"And smart. Really, really smart. Smokin' hot and crazy smart." He coughed. "Things are just . . ." he jerked his head in the direction of their broken bed, "just . . . wow."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "No, you're right, things are kind of awesome."

Another growl came from him, but this one was involuntary. "Let's have those steaks," he replied.

- . - - - . -


	6. VI Last Time

Alternatives

Chapter VI: Last Time

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: T

- JOR - Based on the Season 4 episode: "Beneath the Surface;" takes place shortly after said episode -

FYI, I think this is my favorite one . . .

- . - - - . -

Sam Carter sat on her couch with a half gallon of chocolate ice cream and a spoon, watching the saddest chick flick she had seen in years. She felt awful. She had for days, and to be quite frank, she hadn't been trying to make herself feel any better.

She wanted to wallow in her own misery.

She could still remember the feel of his skin on her skin, his worn hands on her body, his lips on her neck, whispering words in her ears -- words that didn't really make any sense and seemed foolish now. She was never going to forget them. She missed them -- those words, those lips, those hands, that skin -- and she was always going to miss them.

It felt like she had lost someone. Two people, actually. She lost him, and . . . and herself. At least, the her that could love him; the man he had been.

She was on the verge of tears -- from both the movie and her memories -- when there was a knock at the door. She checked the clock, it was far too late for Janet to be stopping by to make sure she was alright.

Sam was tempted to not get up, but to simply stay on the couch with her sappy movie and her bucket of chocolate self-pity. There was a second knock and she groaned, realizing that she had to get up and get it. She hauled herself off of the couch and headed towards the door. Sam took a deep breath, trying to look at least a little less pathetic. She opened the door and the deep breath she had taken caught in her throat.

Colonel Jack O'Neill.

She didn't know what to say.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she echoed, purposely leaving off his title. She couldn't call him 'Sir,' not right now. She had been able to force it out at the Mountain but right now she was just too vulnerable, too weak, too tired, to continue the charade.

They stared at each for a few moments. Neither one of them said anything, words having temporarily lost all meaning.

"Can I come in?" he finally asked.

She wanted to say 'no,' or at least part of her did. The smart part of her wanted to say 'no.' The smart part wanted to send him away before she did anything she would regret -- something every part of her would regret.

Despite her better judgment, she stepped aside and allowed him into her home. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't find any words.

He looked around the room, his eyes pausing on the bucket of ice cream on the coffee table and the paused chick flick on the television. Eventually his gaze made its way back to her. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head, trying to find words. He never was very good at this type of thing.

"I . . ." he started. His voice was soft; much softer than she had ever heard it. Well, not ever. A softer voice had whispered in her ear what seemed like an eternity ago. His voice made her knees want to buckle, but she forced them straight. She was proud that she was able to stand her ground, but she knew it wouldn't last.

He sighed and smiled softly. "I need a _last time_."

The words hit her like a naquadah enhanced nuclear warhead. Again, she wanted to respond, but her voice was lost and her mind couldn't form enough words to arrange into a coherent sentence. She mocked herself silently, _Look who isn't good at this type of thing now._

"I didn't know the last time was gonna be _the_ last time," he continued, saving them both from waiting for her to come up with a response.

"Please go," she finally said, her vocal chords forcing the words out in a barely audible whisper.

It was silent for a several seconds while he thought of what to say next. "You . . . You are my addiction." His words came slow, but deliberate.

"Please go," she repeated a little louder, but still quiet enough to be categorized as a whisper.

"And I can get over you, I can. I can break the habit. I just . . . I need a _last time_. I need to know our last time is the last. time." He sharply punctuated his last two words.

"You can't even say my name, or hers for that matter," Sam said trying to force the coming tears and sound strong, at least until he left.

"That's 'cause it doesn't matter," he answered. "He felt for her the same things I feel for you. That's why he wanted to be near her. That's why he wanted to protect her. . . . That's why he wanted to be with her."

"Sir, just please go," she reverted back to her pleading, accidentally using his title by habit. She frowned at the unwanted tears welling up in her eyes.

"Look who can't say the name now."

"That's because it doesn't matter!" She was surprised by the sound of anger in her voice. She wondered who she was angry at. "Those people don't exist anymore, and we don't have what they did."

It took him a few moments to respond, and when he did, his voice was soft again. "I won't come back," he said, almost begging. She could hear the longing in his voice, the need. "I promise. I promise I won't come back. I just need one last time . . . with you.

"I need to say goodbye," he whispered.

The tears started to drip down her face, and she wiped them away angrily. She looked away from him and tried once more, "And I need you to leave," she forced with a surprising degree of credibility.

He took a small step towards her, just big enough to notice the difference. "Look me in the eyes and tell me to go home, and I will. I'll leave and I won't ever bring it up again. Either way, really, I won't bring this up again. Alcoholics don't bring up scotch."

She met his gaze and tried to hold her ground. She tried, hard, and for a moment, she actually believed she had it. She thought she had the will power to tell him to go. But those eyes bored into her. The background faded and was replaced by the cloudy rusty brown of oxidized metal occluded by smoke, steam, and grime. All that was left were a pair of eyes that wanted her, that needed her.

"Don't go," she surrendered.

As he took another step towards her, she threw her arms around his neck. "I miss them," she sobbed into his neck. She missed him -- the man he was right then, the man he had been -- and the woman she had been.

His arms tightened around her. "Me too."

His lips found hers slowly, and she cried, knowing it was the last time. But he was right. They could get over each other. It was possible.

He, too, was _her_ addiction, and she could break the habit if she knew it was the last time.

So they had their last time.

He left her before morning. He untangled his limbs from hers and started recovering his lost clothing. She sat on the floor wrapped in nothing but the afghan from the couch and watched him prepare to walk out of her life -- prepare to walk just far enough out her life that she would be near him every day but never be able to have him.

Once his boots and coat were on, he crouched down to her level and kissed the tears off her cheeks. She watched his eyes slide close as he kissed her lips. She ran her hand through his hair -- for the last time.

He rested his forehead against hers as he tried to summon the will to actually leave. He kissed her lips one last time and walked away.

She cried, hard, for hours.

It had been their last time.

They had been wrong. She wouldn't be able to get over him.

At that moment, she would have given anything in the entire galaxy to not have to get over him. Anything, including who she was and who she had been. She would have given anything for that not to have been the last time.

- . - - - . -


	7. VII The Other Guy

Alternatives

Chapter VII: The Other Guy

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG

- RMI - Based on the Season 5 episode: "2001;" takes place several months after said episode in a reality which Ambassador Joe Faxon and Major Carter did expose the A'shen but both Faxon and Carter were able to escape back to Earth -

- . - - - . -

Daniel knocked on Jack's door. It was about ten in the morning, and no one had heard from him in two or three days.

When Jack answered the door, it was very obvious to Daniel that he had not shaved, gone outside, eaten, or stopped drinking in those two or three days.

"Daniel," he said.

"Drink this," Daniel said, shoving a cup of coffee into Jack's hands and pushing past Jack into his house. "How much have you had to drink today?"

Jack thought for a moment. "Does it really matter?"

"How many, Jack?" Daniel asked again, opening blinds and windows.

"Five."

"Go take a shower and shave."

"Why?"

"Because we're going to get you something to eat. Then we're going to get Sam and Joe a nice engagement present and then we're going to their dinner party tonight."

"Who's _we_? I'm not going."

Daniel went into Jack's kitchen and started rinsing out beer bottles and setting them to drain. "We _are_ going. You're going if I have to drag you the entire way."

Jack followed Daniel into his kitchen. "Maybe you didn't hear me, I'm not going."

Daniel moved onto the dishes in the sink and on the counter. "Jack, I know you don't like him-"

"He's a twerp!"

"He's Sam's fiancé!" Daniel put the dishes down and turned to Jack, taking a deep breath. "I know you don't like him. Hell, I don't really like him either. He always seems like he's trying to impress her, like he's trying too hard."

"He's not good enough for her," Jack muttered, taking a sip of the coffee Daniel had brought him.

"No, he's not!" Daniel shouted. "He's an ambassador, and national hero now. But, you're right: he's not good enough for her. Who is?! You?!"

"No, not me! Are you nuts?!"

"Then who?"

"No one!"

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Daniel lowered his voice. "I love her, too, Jack. She's my little sister. And the best we can hope for her is someone who's good to her and makes her happy. And as much as you and I don't like him, Joe is a good man and he makes her happy."

Jack didn't answer, taking another swig of his coffee.

Daniel turned back to the dishes in the sink. "You don't have to stick around after the wedding. If you want to retire and move to Minnesota, that's fine." He looked at Jack for a little bit of dramatic emphasis. "But you will NOT run out of her life and end things badly. You're going to go to the wedding; you're going to wear a suit, shake Joe's hand, dance with Sam, not get drunk, and eat some wedding cake."

"Daniel . . ."

"Go shower and shave."

Jack sighed, set his coffee down, and left the room. Daniel finished up the dishes and started cleaning out Jack's refrigerator, getting rid of anything and everything that looked like a science experiment. Unfortunately, that left Jack with little more than a bottle of steak sauce, a bottle of mustard, three frozen steaks, and plenty of beer. He would take Jack grocery shopping while they were out.

He was halfway through cleaning out the pantry when Jack reappeared, freshly showered, shaven, and wearing clean clothes.

"What should I get," he frowned, "them?" he almost spat the word.

"I got Sam a nice necklace and Joe a watch. I was thinking you could get them some wine or champagne."

Jack smiled. "Alcohol, good idea."

He picked his coffee back up, which was mostly cold now, and followed Daniel out to his car. "How long have you known?" he asked as Daniel backed out of the drive.

"About how you feel about Sam?" he clarified. When Jack didn't answer, he did, "Probably longer than you have."

They rode in silence for a while until Jack finally spoke. "I always knew there would eventually be another guy. I just never expected the other guy to be me."

- . - - - . -


	8. VIII Something About Her

Alternatives

Chapter VIII: Something About Her

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG - T (for mild language, nothing more)

- JOR - Based on the Season 6 episodes "Frozen" and "Abyss", takes place during and between said episodes-

- . - - - . -

_No. No. No no, no no no. No. I'm not going to do it. You might as well stop asking, Carter. I'm not going to let them put a snake in my head. Are you nuts?! I don't care if he has the vital information the Tok'ra need to defeat the Goa'uld. I don't care. They're not gonna put one of those things in my head._

_I don't care if it's temporary. It's not happening. No._

Jack really wished he had the strength to say at least some of what he was thinking. Unfortunately, he didn't. His protests went unheard.

_If it's either Jack 'Snakehead' O'Neill or Jack 'Six-Feet-Under' O'Neill, I'd take six feet under any day. _

_Come on, Carter, just let me die here. I had a good run. Especially the last five years. You have been great -- I mean -- you as in _the team_. I love you -- all of you guys, I mean._

He opened his eyes just enough to see her, which was a mistake.

_Oh, come on, Carter. Crying is cheating! Don't cry. Damn it._

_No. I'm not caving on this one. No snakes. You can let those perfect big blue eyes cry all you want, but I'm still gonna say no. You just stand there and cry and I'll just lay here and die. _

_Carter! You're killing me here with the crying! You know what? You keep crying and I'll just let you kill me and then you won't be able to put a snake in my head. Ha! What do you think about that?! Yeah, I found the loop hole in your little 'Cry to get the Colonel to do anything' plan. I am so on to you._

"Sir, please."

_Damn it._ Jack's mind fumed. _Damn you, Carter! Damn you and your little blonde head. You are just . . . I can't believe you . . . For crying out loud!_

He made some almost unperceivable affirmative and she smiled, turning up to the observation lounge, she said, "He'll do it."

_Damn it, Carter. You are killing me. Killing me!_

_You know, if you knew that you could make me do anything by saying 'please' and batting your eyelashes, maybe shedding a cute little tear or two, I would never be in control again. Oh, who am I kidding? You know already, don't you?_

_That's what that little smile was about. You know that you can make me do anything, don't you? Don't you? Yeah, your silence only confirms my suspicions. I am so on to you, Major, so on to you._

She stayed near him for most of the time when they were prepping him to be shipped out. _To be snaked_. So he kept his concentration on her, what little of it he had, cursing her the entire time.

He was mildly aware of the 'gate activating. Carter put her hand down to him, but it was stopped short by something. She was resting her hand on something. _What the hell?_ It took him a few moments to realize that he must be in a hazmat pod. However, he lost interest when she smiled. He saw her lips move, but he couldn't hear the words. Well, maybe he did hear her words, but he wasn't processing them.

She smiled.

_Damn it, Carter! I can't believe you talked me into this. Two words! That's all you needed to talk me into this! Two words! 'Sir, please,' _ he mocked her in his head. _You have got to be kidding me! That's the oldest trick in the book. And it worked!_

_There's something about you, Carter. Something that wraps me around your little finger, just like that snake is going to wrap around my spine; controlling me in every way. Damn you, Carter!_

- . - . -

Kanan felt awful sitting in his new host. Just plain awful.

For starters, they gave him just about the sickest, closest-to-death host they could find. _Good job with that, by the way_. But his host's condition was not the only thing affecting his mood.

It was Shallan.

He had left her behind. He couldn't believe he left her behind. Why the hell did he do that? She had betrayed Ba'al because she loved him and he simply left her behind. He hadn't cared about her, as if she had just been a tool, a piece of equipment.

Leaving her behind -- leaving her to Ba'al's mercy -- was one of his worst nightmares, but he couldn't figure out why.

It hadn't bothered him at the time. He remembered making the decision and being more than okay with it.

But now . . .

It must be his host. Kanan knew that it must be his host's fault. He had never felt this way about someone before. He had cared for her, that was true. But now . . .

There was something about her.

There was something about her that made him feel like she could say anything and he would do it. All she would have to do was say 'please,' or perhaps bat her eyelashes.

_Damn her!_

She had complete control over him and she probably didn't even know. If she had known, she might have asked him to take her with him. And he wouldn't have been able to tell her no. If he had said no, she might have cried and that would have simply killed him.

He wouldn't have been able to bear tears from those beautiful eyes. He thought of her smile and how he would have much preferred to say 'yes' and see her smile. A smile that was the light in the darkness and stretched from ear to ear; innocent and pure, breath-taking and perfect.

Damn that little blonde head of hers!

She had complete and utter control over him.

Well, that decided it. He had to go back for her. He couldn't leave her to Ba'al. Not only because he knew that he shouldn't have left an ally behind, and not only because he needed to protect her, but because he didn't know what he was going to do without her.

There was just _something_ about her.

- . - - - . -


	9. IX Alpha Site

Alternatives

Chapter IX: Alpha Site

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG - T

- RMI - Takes place mid-season 6, in a reality which Daniel Jackson did not ascend, Jonas Quinn did not join the Stargate program and Anubis succeeded in the destruction of Earth, causing the United States government to enact a mass evacuation plan which saved hundreds of people, including SGC and Area 51 personnel, Air Force Academy Cadets, West Point Cadets, Annapolis Midshipmen, 300 graduate students from various universities with various specialties, the Joint Chiefs, the senior cabinet members, and several IOA committee members -

- . - - - . -

"Are things okay?" Daniel asked.

Jack looked up from his lunch. "What?"

Daniel sat down across the table from him. "Between you and Sam. You guys have been acting weird lately."

Jack shook his head, pretending that he didn't know exactly what Daniel was talking about. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, you just seem to be avoiding each other."

Jack shook his head and once again pretended that he hadn't noticed what Daniel was talking about. "I don't know what you're talking about." But he did. He did know, all too well. He and Carter were avoiding each other. Like the plague.

Ever since the human race was literally blown off the face of the planet and they had all escaped to the Alpha Site they had been slowly distancing themselves from each other. They both knew that the great shock of having everything they ever knew destroyed would push them to a place they could not go.

They hadn't gotten any sleep while they were evacuating as many people as they could. He would never admit it out loud, but as soon as they got everyone to the Alpha Site, he wanted to crawl into a bed next to a one Samantha Carter, wrap his arms around her, bury his face in her neck, and sleep for days.

But that wasn't an option.

They were still Air Force officers; as much as they hated to admit it -- the term "United States Air Force" being somewhat metaphorical now.

But, damn, did he want her!

"Jack, are you sure you're okay?" Daniel asked.

Jack's eyes focused back on his friend, realized that he had probably been staring for several seconds. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Daniel regarded him carefully. "Maybe you should go see Doctor Fraiser."

Jack nodded slowly. "Sure, why the hell not?" He got up, taking the remains of his lunch with him.

"Now I know something's wrong," Daniel called after him. "You just volunteered to go see Doctor Fraiser."

Jack shrugged it off and kept walking. _Yep_, he thought to himself, _I would say that something's wrong. The planet's gone, we're trying to start over, and the only thing on my mind is Samantha Carter._

- . - . -

Janet settled her stethoscope around her neck. "So, why did you come to see me?" she asked.

Sam shrugged. "Daniel said that I was acting a little weird. He wanted to make sure that I was okay."

"You said you were feeling fine, right?"

Sam shrugged again. "Yeah, I feel great. Well, my planet and most of my race was just destroyed but . . . "

"What are you doing to cope?"

"What?"

"What are you doing to cope? Cassie and I play cards every night. Daniel's compiling a book of all the random Earth facts people remember and the General does dishes in the mess hall. What are you doing?"

"I've been reading," she answered sheepishly.

"What?"

Sam forced a laugh. "I didn't exactly have the greatest 'getting over the apocalypse' books in my pack when we evacuated." Janet eyed her, waiting for a real answer. "Fahrenheit 451."

"Are you serious?"

"It was either that, Slaughterhouse-Five, 1984, or Colorado Cowboy."

Janet stifled a laugh. "You had three major, not to mention depressing, science fiction books in your pack and one romance novel?"

Sam shrugged again. "You know me . . ."

Janet shook her head, turning the conversation back to where she wanted to steer it. "My point is that the rules have changed and it's expected, if not encouraged, for people to start pairing off."

_"Pair off?" _she repeated slowly.

"We _are_ trying to continue the race," Janet justified.

"I don't know about you, Janet, but the dating scene here isn't very hot," Sam joked.

"What about Colonel O'Neill?"

If Sam had been drinking something she would have spit it out. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not necessarily suggesting anything. I'm just saying that the rules are different now.

"I've been put in charge of the continuation of a race. Right now, as I see it, our options are limited with current regulatory restrictions. I've spoken to General Hammond and he took it to the Joint Chiefs. They've approved my recommendation."

"Gee," Sam's voice dripped with sarcasm, "You'd think they would have sent out a memo."

Janet forced a smile. "Let's be realistic here, it's only been six months. We don't need people to feel like they're only here to . . . breed. Not to mention the fact that we don't have the infrastructure to start increasing the population. Realistically, we brought too many people with us to begin with."

"How did we get on this topic?" Sam asked, becoming increasingly uncomfortable as her mind made the connection of children and Janet's mention of Colonel O'Neill.

"And, frankly, Sam, we didn't want people to start acting irresponsibly by just opening the flood gates. We have a _lot_ of very young people here, most of them in the military because we took a good chunk of the academies with us. The last thing we need is to tell a bunch of sex-starved twenty year-olds 'Congratulations, the nerdy civilian scientists twice your age are no longer your only options."

Sam nodded slowly. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Nothing, necessarily. I'm just mentioning that if two higher ranking officers were able to demonstrate that a proper working relationship could be maintained simultaneously with an adult, responsible, personal relationship . . . "

"God, Janet! How long have you been thinking about making an example out of my personal life?"

Janet shook her head. "Not long, and I didn't tell the General."

"Well, thank you for that," she spat facetiously.

"Oh, just shut up and go for it."

"Go for what?" a new voice asked.

Sam and Janet turned to see Colonel O'Neill in the doorway. "Sir!" they both jumped in shock.

"How long have you been standing there?" Sam asked, terrified that he had heard too much.

"Just long enough to hear Fraiser to tell you to shut up."

"Oh, thank God," Sam muttered under her breath.

"What was that, Major?" he asked.

"I have to go, Sir," she jumped up and practically ran out the door.

- . - . -

"Did I say something?" O'Neill asked once Sam had left.

Janet smiled. "No, Sir. I did." She shook her head, indicating that he shouldn't ask. "What can I do for you, Sir?"

"Daniel says I've been acting weird."

Janet nodded slowly. "He has, has he?"

The Colonel sat down on the bed in front of her, looking sheepish.

She couldn't give the Colonel the same speech she just gave Sam, that would be weird. So, she got out her stethoscope and pretended to examine the Colonel. "You know, Sir," she said as casually as she could manage. "Being one of the more senior members here at the Alpha Site, I thought you should be aware of one of the changes that is going to be enacted in the coming months."

He eyed her carefully.

"I suggested to the Joint Chiefs, and they agreed; the fraternization regulations are lifted, and we're going to announce it in a few months."

"Really?!" he sounded a little too excited. He coughed, regaining his composure. "Really, why?"

"The primary reason for the Alpha Site evacuation was to continue the race, which is why we brought so many Cadets, Midshipmen, and Grad Students with us. As things were . . . Suffice it to say that limiting the options of the population is not a good way to build diversity."

He tilted his head, somewhat confused. "And I thought we brought the academies so we could continue the Commander-In-Chief's Cup."

She gave him a sarcastic smile in response to his joke.

"Come on, Doc, we are talking about people, aren't we?"

She nodded. "Yes, Sir. We_ are _talking about people. That's why we can't decide who can or can't be with whom. For one, it's not a sound idea in terms of rebuilding a race. But, what I'm really concerned about here is not making people miserable for the rest of their lives."

He waved his hands about. "The whole 'what's life without living' cliché."

She pointed at him. "Exactly, Sir." Janet stuck a thermometer in his mouth and watched him think as she took his blood pressure.

"So," he said once she had taken the thermometer back. "If two officers were to . . . right now . . ." he made some more broad gestures. "Hypothetically."

Janet stopped her movements and made eye contact. "It would be perfectly fine," she said in a softer tone. "Hypothetically," she returned to her professional voice.

He nodded, thoughtfully, before turning before to her. "So, how am I, Doc?"

She knew he was fully aware that she didn't really do any kind of examination at all. "How do you feel, Sir?"

"I feel good, Doc." He flashed her a patented O'Neill grin. "Real good."

She smiled back. "Well, then, you check out fine with me."

He jumped off the bed, much spryer than when he had come in. "Take it easy, Doc."

Janet watched him leave with a big smile on her face. She had a feeling that her and Daniel's plan was working; working like a charm.

Her suggestion to the Joint Chiefs wasn't just about Sam and the Colonel, it wasn't. She really did have honorable intentions when it came to the continuation of the race and the overall morale of the population. But, now that things were different, she couldn't help herself.

So, she enlisted Daniel, and they came up with a plan to give Sam and the Colonel a little push in the right direction.

Janet smiled to herself. Score one for the good guys.

- . - . -

Sam was sitting on a table in the center of camp, taking a drink from her canteen when Colonel O'Neill sauntered over. He was looking quite pleased with himself.

"What'd you have to see Janet about that's leaving you so . . ." she gestured to his mood, "so . . . happy?"

"Daniel told me I should go see her, that part went fine, but she did tell me something very interesting." The smile on his face was simply delicious. "Apparently, some of the rules around here are going to change."

Sam smiled back. "Yeah, she told me, too."

His brow furrowed. "She did?"

Sam nodded. "Wait, Daniel told you to go see her?"

He nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"Because he told me to go see Janet."

The Colonel frowned. "You don't think . . ."

Sam didn't answer, but yes she did think. She hadn't known that Daniel and Janet were so conniving. She watched him as he sat down next to her, pulling out his own canteen.

"So, what do you think?" he asked.

"About?"

"About Danny and the Doc trying to play matchmaker."

"I think I'd rather them not meddling around in my -- our -- personal lives. But," she smiled at him, "I'm glad the rules have changed."

He smiled back, "Me too."

They both sat quietly, sipping from their canteens, looking out around the Alpha Site at what was left of Earth.

"Do you suddenly feel that this is all that's expected of us?" he asked.

She let out a nervous chuckle. "You too?"

"'Cause we don't have to start anything right now . . . Unless you want to."

She gently knocked her knee against his. "Just because the rules have changed doesn't mean we need to jump into anything, or feel rushed."

He leaned over to her, and she knew his intention was to place a light kiss on her cheek. However, when she turned and met his gaze, he froze, suddenly self conscious. The corners of her lips curled up just barely and she leaned in towards him a little, holding his gaze.

"Colonel!" General Hammond's voice shouted from halfway across camp, causing Sam and the Colonel to jump apart, almost knocking their heads together violently. "You do _not_ keep the Joint Chiefs waiting!" he shouted, waving his arm.

Jack smiled sheepishly at Sam. "I need to go."

She nodded. "Looks like it."

"Can we talk about this later?"

She nodded again.

He squeezed her knee while pretending to grab his canteen and refasten the cover before jumping up and jogging over to General Hammond and the awaiting Joint Chiefs.

Sam smiled to herself and took another swig. That went all right. Not great, but all right.

- . - . -

Jack and Sam slowly made their way away from base camp; P-90s strapped to their chests. They were, as far as anyone knew, just making routine rounds in the area. Really, they were trying to get some space to figure out what they were going to do.

"I don't know," Jack said, "it just doesn't feel right. Know what I mean?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I guess we've just kind of gotten use to the fact that things were never were going to change."

He glanced over at her. "But things did change."

"A lot of things."

"I feel like I need an excuse."

"Propagating the species would be a good excuse," she said, most likely without thinking.

"What?" Jack stopped in his tracks, shocked by her boldness.

"Sorry," she said, turning back to him. "I mean . . . "

"I don't want have to need an excuse."

Sam inhaled sharply and forced a quick toothy smile; the one she gave when she was nervous. "Me neither."

He took a step towards her. "The rules have changed and we don't need and excuse."

"I just feel like I'm being rushed into this."

Jack nodded. "Me too."

They shared an uncomfortable laugh.

"But I don't feel like I'm being _forced_ into this," she said, stepping closer.

Jack stepped closer again, finally closing the distance between them. "I'm glad. 'Cause I'm definitely not being forced into this."

"So we can just go slow," she leaned towards him slightly.

"Yeah, sureyoubetcha," he leaned in as well, bringing their faces close together.

Her eyes slid shut as they continued to move towards each other ever so slightly.

_"Come in, Jack,"_ their radios buzzed. They both froze, painfully close to each other, their eyes popping open.

Jack leaned back far enough just to be able to reach his radio. "Yes, Daniel," he fumed.

"Newman and Huston came back with something, you and Sam should probably see it."

They both sighed heavily. "Duty calls," he said. Clicking his radio, he replied to Daniel: "We're on our way. Hold tight."

- . - . -

Sam sat in her makeshift lab, up to her elbows (figuratively) in a naquadah generator. One of the smaller units had bit-the-dust and she was trying to figure out why.

She didn't look up when she heard someone enter the lab, assuming it was Bill back with some lunch.

Without any warning, a face appeared on the other side of her magnifying glass. Not just any face, Jack O'Neill's face.

"Having fun, Carter?"

She laughed. "Yes, Sir." She put down her tools and looked up at him. He smiled, realizing that he was one of the only people who could get her to stop working with so little effort.

He rounded the table and leaned against it, next to her. "I thought we could continue our _conversation_ from earlier."

She sat up a little straighter as he leaned his upper body towards her a little. "I thought we said everything that needed to be said," she said.

He scooted closer and leaned his face in closer, resting his hand on her thigh. "Yep."

She smiled and moved to meet him halfway.

"Well, they didn't have blue Jell-O, but," Bill announced, bursting into the lab.

"For cryin' out loud!" Jack exclaimed, jumping up and settling a few feet from Sam, who sat up and picked up her tools again.

Bill slowed down, noticing how awkward the two of them were standing. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked.

Jack headed towards the door. "Nope," he slapped Bill on the shoulder. "Not really." Catching one last look at her, Jack left.

Bill regarded Sam carefully. "Are you sure?"

She had already turned back to her reactor; at least, pretended to have turned back to her reactor. "Yeah, really, it was nothing."

- . - . -

San was exhausted. It had been a long day and she was upset about how things had gone with Colonel O'Neill -- with Jack. They both wanted this to happen, but the way things were going, nothing was happening.

She made her way to the weapons bunker to retire her P-90 and hit her rack. She unclipped the weapon from her chest and placed it on the table, getting some equipment to clean it out before retiring it.

She heard someone come in behind her, and glanced at the door; it was Jack. She tried to hide her smile by turning back to her weapon.

"Hey, Carter," he said making his way over to her, unclipping his own gun from his chest and placing it on the table next to hers. He reached over her for a few swabs to clean the barrel, his body coming into brief contact with hers.

When he removed the clip, she went to grab it from him and put it away with her own. Her hand came in contact with his.

He released the clip in favor of her hand. Their eyes drifted up from the object between them to each other.

She smiled softly, and before she could really think, Sam founded the distance between them decreasing steadily.

"Oh!" a surprised voice came from the doorway. "Good evening, Ma'am, Sir."

Both Sam and Jack jumped a mile, dropping the clip on the table. "Damn it!" Jack exclaimed.

"Are you alright, Sir?" the young woman, who Sam recognized as one of the Cadets from the academy.

Jack ignored her and turned to Sam. "Well, we had a good run," he said with disappointed annoyance before storming out.

The Cadet watched him leave; half questioning, half terrified. "Excuse me, Ma'am," she said, removing her own weapon. "Did I do something wrong here?"

Sam forced a smile. _'Other than coming in at the exact wrong time?'_ she thought. "Not at all, Cadet," she replied. "Take care of these, will you?" she gestured to the P-90s on the table.

"Yes, Ma'am," the Cadet replied and went to work as Sam started to leave. "Have a good evening, Ma'am."

"Small chance now," she muttered under her breath. Sam threw her hand up in response. "You too, Cadet."

- . - . -

Jack sunk to his bunk with a heavy sigh. Four times! He had been blocked today four times. And by what? The Joint Chiefs (which, after second thought, was a good excuse), evidence that there were large feline predators in the area, Bill Lee, and a random Cadet. Oi!

He ran his hand through his hair and started tugging at the laces on his boots. He got them off easy enough and stared at his wiggling toes.

He and Carter felt rushed into this, but, ironically enough, "this" wasn't happening. He sighed again. Every time they tried to rush, they got delayed.

A light knock on the door to his quarters brought his thoughts back to the present. "Come on," he made his way to his feet. "Carter," he said, surprised to see her.

What surprised him more was her outfit. Her boots and utility pants, but where there should have been a skivvy shirt and a utility jacket there was only a tank top. Flashes of a steamy locker room and a Broca-Virus-infected-Carter ran through his mind.

That tank top could only mean one thing.

She shoved her hands in her pockets, and smiled nervously, knowing exactly what he was thinking. "Hi."

"Hi," he echoed.

He didn't really know what to say, and -- from the look on her face -- he knew she didn't know what to say either.

"Talk about feeling rushed . . ." he said, trying to break the ice.

Sam blushed. Jack had never seen someone's face turn colors so fast. Her hand shot to her mouth. "Oh my God."

Yep, he embarrassed her. Smooth move, O'Neill, smooth.

"I should go," she turned around and started to rush out.

He caught her arm. "Carter!" He took a deep breath, "Sam," he said softly.

She settled backwards, relieving the physical tension between them; the emotional tension still hanging thick.

"Sorry," he said as she turned back to him. "I, ah, didn't know what else to say."

She forced another nervous smile. "Things seemed so much easier earlier today. Now it's just . . . awkward."

"This is what you want, isn't it?" he asked.

She was taken back, a little. "You think I would have come here in this, quote 'sweet little tank top number' if it wasn't?"

He smiled at the memory of the Broca Virus incident. "Unless you're sick . . ." He paused, pretending to think. "You're feeling alright, right?"

She nodded, acknowledging his joke.

The silence hung for a few moments, moments that felt like hours.

"No one's gonna come rushing in here with some major crisis?" he asked.

"I, uh, asked Janet and Teal'c to discretely make sure we weren't bothered."

"You think of everything." Jack smiled.

His smiled slowly faded and the horribly awkward silence returned.

"Maybe we should just rip the band-aid off," Sam suggested.

"I don't want this to have to be a band-aid moment."

"I don't want to have to walk back to my own room tonight." She took a step towards him. "Unless you want me to leave."

He shook his head, becoming more and more aware of her proximity to him. "I don't want you to leave," he said in a husky whisper.

She took another step toward him. When a whispered "good" escaped from her lips he almost melted. He completely forgot about any and all inhibitions he may or may not of had at one point in his life. He completely forgot where they were, because it didn't matter. He completely forgot that the planet had been all but destroyed less than six months ago.

All he knew was Samantha Carter.

He reached out to her, resting his hands on her hips instinctively. His eyes locked on her face. When her tongue darted out and wet her lips involuntarily he almost collapsed in a heap.

Making themselves imperceptibly closer, he rested his forehead against hers and tried to remember how to breathe.

"You are so-" he tried to think of a good adjective but his thoughts were interrupted by her lips on his. It was slow and sweet, but breath-taking.

She broke the kiss and rested her forehead back against his. "Holy Hannah," she whispered.

"Awesome," he breathed. "You are so awesome."

Her eyes lit up as a smile exploded across her face. "Awesome, huh?" She kissed him again.

- . - - - . -


	10. X Too Late

Alternatives

Chapter X: Too Late

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG

- RMI - Based on the Season 7 episode: "Death Knell"; takes place during and immediately following said episode -

- . - - - . -

"O'Neill," Teal'c pointed at the fireball in the sky.

Jack smiled for a millisecond before taking off running towards the explosion. The only coherent thought on his mind was that Carter was alive. Sprinting at top speed, Jack only glanced up from the uneven ground to make sure he was heading in the right direction.

Energy bolts flew by his head, so he threw himself at the ground. "Teal'c!" he shouted, making sure the Jaffa was aware of the danger. The Super Soldier. He peaked his head up to see the black clad figure striding past them, apparently uninterested. Jack took aim and fired two shots, neither of which had any effect.

The Solider kept walking.

He attempted to fire a third shot, but the weapon was spent. Jack cursed silently. Waiting a few more moments, making sure the Super Solider was on his merry way, he jumped to his feet and continued towards the explosion they had seen.

Not even a minute later, he arrived in what looked like a sand stone pit; the smoking UAV was propped up on a rock pile pointed toward a smoking crater.

He looked around. "Carter!" he shouted. Jack ran over to the rock pile and skidded to a halt when he saw her. Blood covered a deep gash on her thigh, which was loosely bandaged. His eyes traveled up to the energy burns on her chest, then to her face. Her eyes were closed and there was a large slash on her forehead. "Carter." Dropping his weapon, he dropped to his knees.

She wasn't breathing.

He put his fingers to her throat, searching for a pulse, but found none. "Carter!" he shouted. He folded his hands and started chest compressions. Taking a moment to breath himself, he tipped her head back into the proper position and tried to restore the life to her body. He didn't last very long, working very frantically.

After a few sets, he simply collapsed on her chest, heaving. He leaned back to see her face, and ran his hand along her chest. "Carter, I'm sorry," he breathed through the tears coming to his eyes. "I'm sorry," he repeated over and over.

He sat back on his knees and pulled her body up to him. "I am so sorry."

- . - . -

Jack followed the covered stretcher through the Stargate with Teal'c at his side. Jacob was waiting at the bottom of the ramp, leaning heavily on a cane. The medics stopped in front of him, and he lifted the sheet that covered his daughter.

He looked away and closed his eyes for a second. He kissed his hand and cupped her face before putting the sheet back and allowing the medics to continue.

Jack made eye contact with him as he walked down the ramp. "Jacob," he tried.

Jacob shook his head and put his hand on Jack's shoulder. He took a deep breath, as if he was going to say something, but didn't. He just shook his head and walked away.

"Jack," Daniel walked in.

"Daniel," Jack walked past him. He felt filthy and wanted nothing but a shower. "Don't try. Just don't try."

Numbly, he made his way to the locker room, stripped off his utilities and made his way to the showers. He washed the dirt and grime out of his hair, and watched the blood spiral down the drain. He hadn't realized he had gotten that much of her blood on him.

It was her blood, Carter's.

He leaned his arm against the tile and rested his head on his forearm. Samantha Carter was dead.

He didn't know how long he stood there, the water beating down on him, remembering every moment with Samantha Carter he could. He smiled, thinking of the time they first met. They had both been so confrontational. She was merely responding to his demeanor, he supposed, and Kowalski's and Ferretti's. She was a little spit fire.

Was.

He sighed deeply and turned the shower off, and went in search of clean clothes. He was hungry, but the thought of food was making him nauseous, so he skipped the commissary and headed straight for Carter's lab.

The lights were off, and it seemed eerily empty. He stood in the doorway for a while, feeling like an intruder. Eventually, he did take that first step and he was alone in Carter's lab. He hit the lights and looked around. It was so Samantha Carter.

Everything was neat and tidy, except for the pile of whatever that sat on the table in the center. It was stern about in a seemingly careless fashion, but Jack knew that Carter would have been able to pick up exactly where she left off when she came back. But she wasn't coming back.

"O'Neill," came a deep voice from behind him. "Doctor Fraiser wishes to see you."

Jack didn't respond, but simply turned and brushed past Teal'c, making sure to turn off the lights on his way out. He quietly made his way to the Infirmary. No one noticed him as he walked in, so he took a seat on the nearest bed, knowing that eventually the Doc would make her way over to him.

He was mildly aware of Teal'c standing near him, but really wasn't paying that much attention. When he closed his eyes he could see her face. Sometimes it was her battle bruised face as he had last seen it, and sometimes it held that infectious smile. He wet his lips, thinking of the mere handful of kisses they had shared over the years.

"Colonel," Doctor Fraiser interrupted his thoughts.

He looked up at her.

"How are you feeling, Sir?" she asking, taking out her pen light.

He didn't even flinch when she shinned his eyes.

She turned to Teal'c. "He's in shock." She gently pushed him back. "Lay down, Sir, we're going to get you something to drink."

Shock sure did explain how he was feeling. Samantha Carter was dead. That was pretty damn shocking.

He just laid on the bed like Doctor Fraiser had told him too, unable to think of a good reason to defying the good doctor. He was still vaguely aware of Teal'c standing next to him.

Someone eventually brought him some water, which he sat up to drink. And some time later, Doctor Fraiser returned. "Why don't you go get some sleep, Sir? Just stay on your base quarters, and I'll have someone come check on you in a few hours."

He didn't reply, just stood up and started to head out.

"Would you like something to eat, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked just before they got to the door.

He spun at Teal'c, suddenly very aware of what was going on. "No, I don't want anything to eat!" he shouted. "Are you kidding me? She's dead, Teal'c!" He grabbed Teal'c upper arms. "She's dead because I wasn't fast enough! I got there too late!" He shook Teal'c a little. "Damn it, Teal'c! Are you kidding me! You were there!

"You were there! You saw the explosion! We knew it was her and we didn't there fast enough! I didn't get there fast enough. I got there too late!

He inhaled sharply and paused for a second. "She's dead because I was too late," he hissed.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and spun towards it's owner, ready to shout. However, he was met by Doctor Fraiser, and he suddenly couldn't think of anything to say. "I'm going to give you a sedative, Sir."

He nodded, taking a deep breath. Looking back towards Teal'c, he mumbled an apology.

He let Fraiser lead him by his arm to his base quarters. He was aware of her watching him as he took of his boots and BDU jacket, which he left carelessly in the middle of the room. He laid back on the bed, and held his arm out

She took a syringe out of one of her many pockets and sterilized his arm with a swab. He didn't flinch when she stuck him, and simply waited while she pumped the sedative into him, and messaged the area with a couple fingers.

"Come see me in the morning when you get up, Sir."

He nodded. "Sure, thing, Doc."

He watched her leave before turning his attention to the ceiling.

"Sir," she said from the doorway. "It wasn't your fault."

He only answered after she had left and closed the door behind her. "You say that, but you weren't there . . . and neither was I."

- . - - - . -


	11. XI While You're Unconscious

Alternatives

Chapter XI: While You're Unconscious

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG

- JOR - Based on the Season 7 episodes: "Death Knell" and "Heroes, Pt II" ; takes place during said episodes -

- . - - - . -

Jack walked back into the Infirmary and saw Jacob asleep in the chair next to Carter's bed. Fraiser had patched her up and sedated her a couple hours before. Jack knew Jacob was going to have to leave soon, the alliance with the Tok'ra having finally bit the dust. Jack wasn't going to lie and say that he was going to miss the Tok'ra, but he definitely was going to miss having Jacob around. He was just an all-around good guy.

Jack poked the former General gently. "Jacob," he sing-songed. "Jaacoob."

Jacob jumped, inhaling sharply. He looked at Jack and settled down. "Jack, you just about scared the daylights out of me."

Jack smiled. "I tend to have that affect on people. Why don't you go catch a few winks in a bed, and I'll keep an eye on Carter, here."

Jacob smiled and stood up, stretching. "You're right, Jack. Have someone get me if she wakes up. I'll be back in a few hours."

Jack nodded and watched Jacob leave. He turned to Carter and watched her for a second. He pulled her blanket up a little higher and then pulled the chair a little closer to her bed. He sat down and leaned on the arm, thinking.

"Ya, know," he said. "I always hate it in movies when the awake person says to the comatose person 'I don't know if you can hear me.' If they can hear you, they think it's a stupid comment, and if they can't hear you . . . then what's the point?" He looked around, to make sure that no one was around to overhear him.

"While you're unconscious, I'm going to get a few things off my chest, because I am positive that I'm talking to myself here." He smiled nervously and checked, again, to make sure the Infirmary was empty. "You make me uncomfortable.

He paused and took a deep breath. "You know me. I'm an easy going guy. I'm comfortable everywhere, in every situation. I laugh in the face of danger, snakeheads and slimy politicians. But you make me uncomfortable, Carter. I think before I speak around you -- now that's an accomplishment.

"I just don't want to say anything stupid, or . . . too stupid . . . in front of you. I plead the Fifth around you just so I don't have to be myself or let you know how I really feel. I'm just really glad you're okay; that we were able to get you out of there. I mean, you had things pretty much covered, but still. . . . I'm glad that you're home, safe and sound.

Jack slouched in his chair, and drummed his fingers against his knee. "See, Carter, uncomfortable in my own skin. And don't confuse this with the way I am normally on Fraiser's turf. It's you, not the Fraiser's Domain, that's affecting me." He took a slow breath and blew it out through his lips, looking around. "Well, isn't it awkward in here, now?

He took another deep breath. "I don't know where this thing with _Pete_ is going, but, just so you know, I'm going to pretend to be okay with it. Believe me, I want you to be happy and I want you to have it all. So, I'm going to be the good _friend_ and smile; even though I would give anything . . ." he paused and chuckled, "to be able to say it out loud, even when you can't hear me."

Reaching over to an instrument tray, Jack picked up an object and started fiddling it. "Alright, Carter. I'll shut up and let you get some sleep while you're knocked out."

- . - . -

Sam walked into the Infirmary, which was still bustling with activity. "Major," a nurse saw her as she entered, "grab a seat, someone will be with you in a minute."

She nodded and looked around for a seat. She saw the chair next to Colonel O'Neill's bed. She pulled it right up tight next to him and sat down.

Colonel O'Neill was finally out of surgery, but still unconscious. Doctor Carmichael said he was going to fine; he was lucky that most of the energy was absorbed by the blast shield in his vest.

Seeing him, alive, brought tears to her eyes, again. "It's going to be like this for a long time, isn't it, Sir?" she asked quietly, knowing very well that he couldn't hear her and that he wasn't going to answer. But that was okay, she didn't need him to answer and she didn't want him to hear.

"I'm sorry," she said, "about Pete. And thank you, for at least pretending you're okay with it. But we both knew that this was going to happen. One of us was going to have to move on eventually.

"It's just . . . I guess I should tell you, while you're unconscious and can't bring it up again, that getting over you is going to be one of the hardest things I'm ever going to have to do. But I knew it was never going to be easy."

Her memory brought up a flash of her, concussed and marooned on a broken starship, and him, a figment of her imagination. _"I'd give you up right now, if I knew."_

_"That easy?"_

_"I never said it would be easy."_

"Thank you, for being here for me, and no matter what happens . . . just know that . . ." she laughed at herself a little. "I can't say it, not even when you can't hear me." She let her eyes drift close for a second and imagined a life where she could say it. "But you know," she whispered and took his hand. "You know."

"Major?" the nurse returned.

Sam looked up and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I'll make this quick. I'm sure you want to go rest."

There was a quick exam, just enough to make sure that she was physically okay, and the nurse released her. Sam paused at the door, looking back at Colonel O'Neill. "Can you tell me when he's up and about?"

The nurse nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

Sam made her way to her on base quarters. Once safely inside, she sank onto the bed and started removing her boots. She paused once they were off and took a deep breath. She wanted to be held.

And _not _by Pete Shannahan.

- . - - - . -


	12. XII Suggestions

Alternatives

Chapter XII: Suggestions

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG

- EAR - Based on the Season 9 episode: "Ripple Effect," Doctor Fraiser and Martouf's reality; takes place almost a year before said episode within said alternate reality -

- . - - - . -

Jack sat, by himself, in the commissary with a bowl of soup and a large piece of cake he'd yet to bite in to. He was trying not to sulk; or, at least, look as if he wasn't sulking. He was okay with sulking.

Carter was getting married, and he felt that it was completely justified for him to sulk. Sure, nothing had ever happened between them and he was her commanding officer . . . but still. He had always been more than a little possessive over her.

Even when she and Martouf were going out. Though, then Jack had just been the hawk watching Martouf while Jacob was off world. As much as he hated to admit it, Martouf would have been good to her.

But, this guy, Shannahan . . .

He was a cop, which Jack thought was alright, at least he would be able to protect her from the normal stuff people had to worry about. And he was a nice enough guy. Okay, that was a lie: he was painfully nice. He was head-over-heels in love with her; but, really, who wasn't?

There really wasn't anything going against the cop. Well, he did stalk her a little. No matter how good of intentions someone has, stalking is never a good thing. So the guy had a history of being creepy, so what? Carter could take care of herself.

Except for that one time that she got kidnapped coming out of the gym. And that other time that an ascended ancient showed up in her house and ended up building a stargate in her basement.

Okay, so maybe Carter's track record outside of work wasn't so good. But she was tough.

Anyway, Jack didn't like it. It's not that he wanted to monopolize Carter all for himself. Well, that wasn't true. He _did_ want Carter all for himself, but . . . He couldn't give up his position now, there were just too many things at stake. She wouldn't let him, anyway, not the way things were now.

Jack looked up when he noticed Martouf coming in his direction.

"May I join you, General?" Martouf asked, holding a lunch tray of his own.

Jack nodded and watched the Tok'ra sit down and place a paper napkin on his lap. He started to eat silently. Jack watched him for a moment before returning to the soup he couldn't really taste.

"One of us should speak to Samantha."

Jack looked up from his soup. "About?"

"About Mister Shannahan. I am reasonably sure you're feelings in this matter are similar to my own; as are the feelings of Doctor Jackson, Master Teal'c, and Doctor Fraiser."

_You mean that he's a creepy military wanna-be who doesn't deserve her?_ he thought. "I don't know what you're talking about, Marty," he lied.

"Indeed you do, General. I was referring to Samantha's poor decision to marry Mister Shannahan. While we all respect her, and her ability to make her own decisions, we believe she is not making the correct decision."

"Who are we to tell her what she should do?" he asked, angrily.

"I am not suggesting that we tell her what to do, but simply tell her how we feel. As her friends who simply are looking out for her well being, we should offer her our counsel whether she directly asks us or not."

"She did ask me."

"She did?"

"Yeah, Marty. She did," Jack heard his own voice getting agitated, but he didn't really care. "She wanted me to talk her out of it; to give her a reason to say no."

"And you gave her none?"

Jack flashed a sardonic smirk. "Not a good one. I told her she deserved to be happy."

"I agree, but do you not think that this is not the way for her to accomplish that?"

"It doesn't really matter what I think, I'm jaded."

"That is because you love her."

Jack dropped his spoon and looked around, trying to figure out if anyone had heard that. "Sure, Martouf," he said sarcastically, leaning in towards the Tok'ra. "Why don't you let everyone know?"

"I do believe it is somewhat common knowledge."

Jack picked up his spoon. "Oh, for cryin' out loud." He huffed. "Yeah, but everyone ignores it and no one talks about it for a reason."

"Yes, indeed. However, that is not the point."

"What is the point? She deserves to be happy and I can't offer her any other options."

"You are suggesting we do nothing."

Jack stood up, suddenly not hungry anymore -- not hungry, even for cake. "I'm suggesting we smile and nod, and hum loudly, if necessary."

- . - - - . -


	13. XIII Emotional

Alternatives

Chapter XIII: Emotional

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: G

- JOR - Takes place late-season 9 between the episodes of "The Scourge" and "Arthur's Mantle" -

- . - - - . -

Major General Jack O'Neill groaned when he heard his phone ring. He rolled over and reached onto the nightstand for it, glancing at the clock. The caller ID read _SGC-Carter_. He picked up the phone to silence it. "For cryin' out loud, Carter, do you know what time it is here?"

_"Sorry for waking you, General,"_ a voice that was _not_ Samantha Carter answered.

He sat upright, taking a second to realize who the person on the other end of the phone was. "Doctor Lam?"

_"Yes, Sir."_

"Why do you have Carter's phone? Is she okay?" When the base doctor called your emergency contact, chances were that you were not all right.

_"She's fine, Sir, they're all fine."_

"They?" he repeated.

_"SG-1, Sir. Before I tell you anything else, you should know that they're all fine. They're safe, and they're fine."_

"For cryin' out loud, Doc, what happened?"

_"SG-1 was exposed to something."_

"What?"

_"We're not exactly sure what it was or how it happened, but their brain chemistry was seriously altered when they got back. They had unusually high levels of specific hormones and neurotransmitters, causing altered emotional states."_

Jack didn't answer, having been lost at 'brain chemistry.'

_"Basically, Sir, none of them are in control of their emotions. Now, we're just going to wait to see if the levels return to normal on their own. If not, we'll take some medical action. But until then, we're just trying to keep them comfortable._

_"Which is where you come in, Sir. Colonel Carter wanted to talk to you before I sedated her."_

"Sedate?" he couldn't imagine that whatever was effecting SG-1 was enough to warrant sedating her.

_"Yes, Sir. I don't think she'll be able to fall asleep if she didn't. You see, Sir . . . Colonel Carter has been crying for the last three hours. Don't worry, she's responsive and we've been keeping her hydrated. She's just really . . . sad."_

"Alright," he said. "Go ahead put her on."

_"Sam,"_ he heard Doctor Lam say softly, as if she was talking to a small child, _"General O'Neill is on the phone."_

The next thing to hit his ears was the most pathetic sound he had ever heard. _"Hi, Jack,"_ Sam sobbed.

"Hey, Sam. How are you feeling?"

_"Good,"_ she sobbed. _"It's just . . . I miss you so much."_

"Me too," he answered sweetly. Jack was pretty sure he had had this conversation with Charlie a few times when he was away and had the opportunity to call home. "I wish I could be there for you."

_"Yeah, me too."_

Jack didn't really know what to say, so he just listened to her cry for a few seconds. "Are they treating you good?"

_"Yeah, they let me go to my quarters and they put someone outside in case I need anything. Doctor Lam said she'd come check on me in a few hours."_

"That's good. Make sure you tell them if you need anything. Water . . . Blue Jell-O . . ." He heard her let out a soft laugh that was quickly swallowed by tears. "How's the team?"

_"Well, Teal'c's like me. He's just moping around looking sad. I don't think he has tear ducts." _

Jack chuckled.

_"But Cam and Daniel must have been exposed to something else because they're angry."_

"Angry?"

The pitch in her voice rose as she tried to fight the tears, _"They yelled at me."_

If that hadn't been the saddest thing he had ever heard, he would have burst into laughter. "I'm sorry," he said.

_"They were really mean . . ."_

"I'm sure they didn't mean it, Sam."

_"I know."_

"Why don't you get some sleep and call me some time tomorrow. I'll make sure they'll let the call through, no matter what is going on. If the whole world's blowing up, you'll be able to get through."

_"Thanks."_ Her words were becoming less and less coherent as the tears took over again.

"I love you, Sam."

The next words out of her mouth were pure gibberish, but he knew she returned the sentiment. "Sweet dreams."

_"General?"_ Doctor Lam returned.

"Yes, Doctor."

_"Thank you, and again I apologize for waking you."_

"That's alright, Doc. You did the right thing. Make sure she gets some good sleep."

_"I will, Sir. Good night, Sir."_

"Good night, Doc."

Jack put his phone down and fell back into his bed. That was the funniest, most depressing conversation he had ever had. He wanted to laugh, but he felt bad. He wished he could be there. If not to hold Sam until she fell asleep, then to see Teal'c 'moping' and Mitchell and Daniel 'angry.'

Jack chuckled at himself. He was a terrible person.

- . - - - . -


	14. XIV Not That Kind

Alternatives

Chapter XIV: Not That Kind

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: T

- EAR - Based on the Season 10 episode: "The Road Not Taken"; takes place before said episode in the alternate reality when Major Samantha Carter is still married to dotcom billionaire Doctor Rodney McKay. While Colonel Jack O'Neill did participate in the Abydos mission, he did not come out of retirement to participate in the restart of the stargate program the following year -

- . - - - . -

"I can't do this." Major Samantha Carter dropped her fork and wiped her face, preparing to stand up from the table.

"Do what?" Colonel Jack O'Neill, retired, asked.

"This," she made a broad gesture to the somewhat romantic, yet not candlelit, dinner in front of them. "I am not this kind of person." She stood up and took a few steps from the table, suddenly very conscious of the fact that they were in a crowded restaurant.

"The kind of person who has a friendly dinner with a coworker?" he asked, still seated.

She took a sharp step towards him. "Oh, don't you pretend that's what this is." She turned on her heel and stormed out of the restaurant.

"Carter!" O'Neill shouted after her once she was halfway across the parking lot.

She didn't have to glance back to see that he was running after her. She opened the door to her vehicle and cursed aloud when he slammed it shut.

"What!"

"You're not what kind of person?" he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

"I'm not the kind of person who has an affair!" she snapped back, probably a bit too loud. "There, I said it! Happy now?"

"I just wanted to hear you say it."

"Well, I said it. But I won't do it." She opened her car door again. "I'm going home."

"Would he notice if you didn't?" he asked in a louder voice.

She stopped dead and turned to him. "What?"

"Would he notice if you didn't come home one night?" he asked in a calm, almost dark, voice. "Would he even care?"

Sam tried to think of a witty response, but her mind was drawing a blank. The only thing she could think was '_Would Rodney notice?'_

O'Neill reached out and touched her arm gently. "Would he notice if you slept somewhere else?" his tone darkened and softened. "Would he notice if you slept with someone else? Would he care?"

"I would care!" she pointed emphatically at her chest. "_I_ would notice and _I_ would care! I'm not that kind of person!"

"What kind of person?" he hissed. "We're living under martial law, or hadn't you noticed, _Major_?! The rules are different. Morality doesn't really exist anymore."

"Morality ceases to exist only when we kill it!"

"Landry already killed it!"

"Is there a problem?" two national guardsmen walked over to Sam's car. "Forgive me," one of them said, "but we couldn't help but overhear some of your conversation."

Sam smirked darkly and pulled out her military ID. "Major Samantha Carter."

The Corporal smiled. "Yes Ma'am, I recognize you, and you, as well, Sir. Because I know who you both are and how vital you are to the protection of this planet, the Private and I will forget everything we've heard this evening. Now, if you'd like to be on your way."

"Thank you, Corporal," Sam said. "I was just leaving, anyway."

O'Neill stepped back with the two soldiers and watched her drive away. Sam took a glance through her rear view mirror and scowled. He was right, and she knew it. Rodney wouldn't notice. Rodney wouldn't care. And, frankly, she wasn't sure if she cared anymore.

She had met O'Neill when they started screening people for the ancient gene to activate the second knowledge repository they found. The first one had fried Major Kawalsky's brain and killed him, they were hoping that the ancient gene would prevent that.

They were wrong. Luckily, the Asgard were able to help him.

Before he had been brought in for screening, Sam had remembered the name from the Abydos mission roster, the mission she was supposed to go on. She even thought that she had met him before at some official function. However, none of that prepared her to find her heart in her throat upon meeting him again that short time ago. He was damn sexy.

He was arrogant, ornery, unpleasant, disrespectful, and a little bit of a jerk. But he was damn sexy.

After working with him for a few weeks and then almost seeing him die, she knew she was in love with him. Sam really wasn't all that surprised, her marriage with Rodney had ceased to be anything more than simply bearable years ago.

He was an arrogant ass, too. But the difference between Jack O'Neill and Rodney McKay was that O'Neill was faking it, a little, for dramatic effect. And that O'Neill was damn sexy, but that was a different story.

Sam pulled into her parking spot and looked up at the tower which housed their penthouse, Rodney's really. His words and her thoughts kept bouncing around her head.

_He wouldn't notice._

_O'Neill was damn sexy_.

She restarted her car and put it in reverse.

- . - . -

Sam made her way around the dark room, retrieving her clothes, which had been removed in haste several hours before. She sat on the corner of the bed, trying to convince herself that she wasn't a terrible person. Images and sounds flashed through her mind. Why didn't she feel more guilty than she did? She didn't feel all that guilty, which made her feel awful.

She started to stand so she could go to the bathroom, get changed and get the hell out of there as fast as possible.

O'Neill's hand grabbed her arm before she was upright and pulled her back down. "Stay," he whispered.

She cocked her head downwards and tried to think of a good reason to say 'no.'

He moved on the bed behind her and closed the distance between them. "He won't care, but I will." Starting at her lower back, he placed wet kisses up her spine.

"Not done?" she hummed.

He smirked against her back. "Not if I want you to come back."

She spun around. "You want me to come back?"

He reached out and took a hold of her hip gently, pulling her onto her back, and leaned over her. He nodded, their faces mere inches from each other. "I want you to come back a lot."

"Come back a lot? Or want it a lot?"

She was momentarily distracted from her question by his hands on her hips. "Both," he whispered, continuing to close the distance between them.

"Good, because I want to come back a lot."

He pushed some hair behind her ear. "I would notice," he whispered.

"What?"

"If you didn't come home. I would notice, and I would care."

_Well, that settles it,_ she thought as his lips made contact with her neck. She didn't feel guilty at all, and she didn't even feel bad about that.

- . - . -

Sam sat at her desk trying to convince herself not to go over to O'Neill's this evening. She was trying to prove to herself that she didn't need to see him. She wasn't doing so well.

Sam knew she was in too deep when she woke up one morning next to Jack O'Neill having actually slept. She had gotten to his house late, like she often did, and he was already asleep. Instead of waking him, as she often did, she just climbed into bed next to him, tucked her head into the crook of her arm and fell asleep.

This wasn't just an affair any longer and she knew it.

She was at Jack's one or two nights a week, no more, and usually spent a night or two at the base, leaving Rodney with three to five days. He never asked her about it. He didn't even seem to notice. He just acted the same: arrogant and uninterested.

She wasn't even upset about the plain lack of physical contact between the two of them, in fact she appreciated it. Before, her body needed at least a hug, a morning kiss, or at the very least a shoulder chuck on the way out the door. Now, she was perfectly fine with him avoiding her completely; sleeping on the same bed, yet miles away.

Now it wasn't just sleeping with O'Neill, but sleeping next to O'Neill. It had to stop and she knew it.

She didn't say anything. She didn't mention it. She just continued their schedule. He would greet her at the door with a smile and dinner prepared. They would eat and maybe watch a movie or something, and retire to her betrayal and their mutual satisfaction.

After the one morning she woke up next him having actually slept, she tried to avoid him. It had been a week, almost two. But she sat at her desk trying to will herself away from him. She thought she had herself convinced when she headed topside and to her car. She knew that she had lost her will when she found herself driving towards his home instead of her own.

She walked in, apologizing and inventing reasons why she hadn't been there for so long.

He didn't ask any questions, allowing her to defend herself against no prosecution. Eventually, he silenced her gently. "Carter," he whispered. "I'm the other guy here, you don't owe me any explanations at all."

"You said you'd notice."

He smiled. "I did notice. And I do care. But I also came into this knowing that I don't have the luxury of the right to know where you've been. I've no right to ask or to judge."

She placed a kiss on his lips and rested her head against his chest. _I want you to have the right_, she thought to herself before shoving the thought away. This was just an affair, she told herself. It was an affair and nothing else.

Then why did she feel more guilty about missing a night with him than cheating on her husband in the first place?

- . - . -

Rodney was sitting in the living room when she got home from work that Friday. "I don't want to know who it is."

"What?" she asked, stopping dead in her tracks.

"I don't want to know who you've been sleeping with for . . . what, two months? Three?"

It took all her strength to keep her jaw from falling to the floor.

"Oh, don't look that surprised, I wasn't. Well, that's a lie. I was a little surprised, I thought you would have started sleeping around two years ago, at least. Congratulations, Sam, you're a better woman than I thought you were."

She couldn't believe they were having this conversation. Well, _they_ weren't having this conversation, Rodney was just talking.

"Just so you know, I haven't been. Sleeping around, I mean. And, that's not really any reflection on you, or -- really -- me for that matter. Just thought you should know so you don't go all 'woman scorned' on me."

Sam didn't know what to say, or even think.

"You're surprised that I don't want to know who? Really? Let's be honest, you're going outside this marriage to get something you need and you've probably upgraded. So what am I going to do? Go punch a guy twice my size with half my brain?" He shook his head. "No. I'll just let it go.

"Well, out of curiosity, who? Lorne?" He paused and shook his head again. "No, wait, don't tell me. I don't really want to know. Well, it's not that. I just don't care, really." He gestured to the manila envelope on the coffee table as he stood up. "Divorce papers, when you want to sign them. Everything's about half and half." He paused and thought for a second. "Why the hell didn't I get a prenuptial agreement?" he asked himself, and then looked her up and down. "Oh, right, because you're smoking hot.

"Well, that'll never happen again. Fool me once, as they say . . ." He smiled that smug McKay smile and turned from her, heading towards the bedroom. "You don't have to sleep here anymore," he called back to her. "There's really no one to keep up appearances with."

- . - . -

"I thought you were staying with Doctor DotCom tonight," Jack said as he let Carter into his home.

"He knows," she said simply, sinking down onto the edge of the coffee table.

"Yeah?"

"Figured it out," she didn't look up at him, her eyes somewhat out of focus. "He wasn't mad, either. He was just . . . smug, like he was being proven right."

"So . . ."

"We're getting a divorce."

Jack nodded and settled on the edge of the chair across from her, careful to keep their knees from knocking. "So, this'll be the last time I see you outside of the Mountain?"

"What? Why?"

He didn't answer.

"Is this just an affair to you?"

He watched her cringe. She just let him know that it was not just an affair to her. He took one of her hands gently. "Are you saying that it's not?"

She didn't answer.

He leaned forward and breathed on her ear. "'Cause I would love to maintain our current arrangement." He snaked his hand up her thigh. "Or, perhaps, improve it a little."

"Improve?" she almost moaned, leaning forward ever so slightly.

"Yeah," he whispered and ran his tongue over the skin on her neck under her ear. "Maybe you want to stay here every night."

She grabbed his hand, which had slipped a little higher up the inside of her thigh, and leaned back to meet his gaze. "For how long?"

He smiled. "More than just a couple of days, if that's what you're asking."

"I don't know what I'm asking."

"Good, because I don't know what I'm offering."

She released his hand to continue on it's journey up the inside of her thigh, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "I like what you're offering right now."

In one swift moment, he pulled her up onto his lap and ran his teeth along her neck. "I like what you're asking for."

She unzipped her knee-high boots, and pulled them off as she stood up. Dropping her jacket, she made her way to his bedroom.

Jack watched her walk for a second, his throbbing blood blocking his air passages. Leaving his beer unfinished and The Simpsons on mute, Jack hurried through his house to his bedroom and his sexy, newly separated . . . Carter. She was still just Carter, but maybe he could change that -- sooner rather than later.

- . - - - . -


	15. XV White Lie

Alternatives

Chapter XV: White Lie

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG

- RMI - Based on the film "Continuum"; taking place a few months after Daniel Jackson, Samantha Carter, and Cameron Mitchell were settled into new lives in the alternate timeline -

- . - - - . -

Daniel stared at the unknown number calling in on his cell phone. No one ever called him. Either it was his "handler" checking up on him, the physical therapy office checking on an appointment, or no one at all.

"Hello?" he answered the phone.

_"Daniel?"_ an extremely familiar voice on the other end said.

"Sam!" he bolted upright. "Sam, I can't believe they're letting you call me. How are you?"

Sam waited a moment before answering. _"Daniel, I have something important to tell you."_

Her tone concerned him. Something was wrong. "Sam, is everything alright."

_"Daniel, I'm pregnant."_

Every muscle in Daniel's body froze. "You're what?"

_"Don't worry," _she said. _"I already told them you're the father."_

He almost choked on his own saliva. "You told them I'm . . . I'm the father?"

_"They already said they'd move you out here."_ He could hear the tears in her eyes. _"It's going to be okay. We're going to raise our baby together."_

"Listen, Sam," he tried to say something comforting, but he couldn't think of anything good.

_"It's okay, Daniel. We can talk more when we see each other."_ She paused a second, he heard her swallow hard. _"I love you."_

Daniel smiled at the words even though they sounded a little forced. Neither of them said the words that often, but that didn't mean they weren't true. "I love you, too, Sam. I'll see you."

She sniffled. _"I'll see you. Bye."_

He replied in kind and listened to her hang up.

Sam was pregnant. He sighed. But things were going to be okay, she wasn't going to have to raise the baby alone. He was going to help her.

- . - . -

Daniel walked off the plane and looked around. So, this was Montana. What a great place to live out a life of unimportance. Well, not unimportance. He was going to be a father. That was pretty darn important.

He made his way through the baggage claim and found his luggage. He had packed up his things from his old place, the few items he had, and the Air Force said they would move them shortly. He knew that they probably wanted to check his stuff, but that was just fine with him. He didn't really care.

Exiting the terminal, he looked around for Sam. They made eye contact across the room and he smiled. She looked good. Her hair had grown a little more, he liked the longer look she was sporting instead of the short cut he had known her to have for the past ten years or so. She started wearing glasses again, a plain pair of black rims that really brought out the scientist stereotype in her. He was sure she favored glasses over contacts in an attempt to disguise her face in public.

But the thing he noticed most about her was how sad and tired she looked.

With his luggage in one hand and his cane in the other, he made his way over to her, stopping right in front of her for a moment. He knew she was taking stock of him, too.

Daniel dropped his bag and Sam stepped into his arms, tucking her face into his neck.

"So, how much are we going to sell this?" he asked quietly, fully aware that they were being watched.

"I was thinking a long hug, a harmless kiss, followed by another hug," she answered.

"Alright." He loosened his grip on her and they leaned back. He placed a gentle kiss on the corner of her mouth and enveloped her in his arms again.

"See," she said. "Painless."

He chuckled and released her again. "Let's go." He picked up his bag and followed her out.

- . - . -

They had tiptoed around each other all evening, not knowing what to do, nor what to say. They had a quiet dinner of pasta with store bought sauce. While cleaning up, Daniel noticed the empty box of Froot Loops in the trash and smiled to himself. Froot Loops, Jack used to love them, but after the whole 'time loop' thing six or seven years ago, he hated them.

After dinner he wandered around the house a little, getting his bearings. He noticed that Sam had put his bag in the master bedroom. _Very subtle_, he thought. She had avoided the uncomfortable conversation that he had anticipated. He knew that the house was almost definitely being monitored. Nothing extensive, he was sure, but they had to keep up appearances anyway.

The phones were probably bugged, there were probably a few microphones in the kitchen and the living room, and a camera or two set up around the house. The government respected that they had privacy, but not too much.

Surveillance or not, sleeping next to someone off world was way different than sleeping next to someone in their own bed.

He grabbed his pajama pants from his bag and got ready to turn in.

When Sam walked into her - their - bedroom a short while later, he was sitting on one side of the bed in his pajama pants and a crewneck shirt with a book in his hands. They smiled.

She grabbed something from her dresser and disappeared into the bathroom, returning a few minutes later seemingly ready for bed. She stood on the side at the side of the bed, not moving.

"I'm not on the wrong side, am I?" he asked.

She shook her head.

He glanced at his leg. "It's not . . ."

She shook her head again and climbed into the bed next to him. As soon as she was settled down, she started to cry. "I never meant to force you into this."

He put his book down and gathered her up into his arms. He whispered her name and stroked her hair.

"I miss him so much," she sobbed.

"I know." He held her head to his chest and let her cry. As she calmed down, he switched off the lamp on the night stand and allowed them to sink down, he on his back, still holding her to his chest.

"Jack came from Washington three days before we were scheduled to go to the extraction," she said after a great deal of silence. "Sorry we didn't tell you."

"No," he replied, "I understand." He did. He knew that they wanted some time to themselves after Sam had been in Atlantis for a year and Jack was always in D.C. He completely understood. "Was that when?" he asked.

He felt Sam nod against his chest. "Yeah."

"I also understand why you didn't want to be alone for this, and I'm glad that you called me."

She forced a laugh. "Like I was going to call Cam."

Daniel chuckled, too.

They both settled into silence again for another long while.

"Jack would have made a great father," Daniel finally said. He leaned his head up to look in Sam's eyes, "and he would have loved your baby."

She nodded, tears coming back to her eyes. "Thanks for agreeing to be the father to a baby that's not yours."

He placed a kiss on her forehead. "Anytime, Sam, anytime."

- - - Several Months Later - - -

Cam leafed through his mail, seeing a plain envelope from the Air Force made him sigh. He could only imagine what the hell they wanted now.

When he got inside, he opened the envelope to be pleasantly surprised by a personal handwritten note and a picture of a baby instead of some official letter. The baby was a blond-headed little thing, a tiny baby even by newborn standards, but none-the-less adorable. The letter was written in extremely familiar handwriting.

_Cam,_ it read. _They wouldn't let me contact you in any other way and they told me that they wouldn't let you write back. Sorry._

_But I had to let you know. When we came through from our reality, I was pregnant. Daniel and my baby was born a few weeks ago. If you haven't already guessed, the attached photo is her. You can't tell from the picture, but she has blue eyes._

_She's healthy, as am I. You don't have to worry about us, they let Daniel come live with us, him being the father._

_Her name is Grace Jackson, but we call her Jackie, I'm sure you can guess why_.

The first four letters of "Jackie" were a little darker than the other two. Cam smiled to himself. Sam just wanted to make sure that he got the message. It wasn't Jackson's baby, but General O'Neill's.

Of course, he knew that she couldn't be Jackson's baby, that would have just been weird. He, along with just about everyone else at the SGC, new that Sam and the General were in some kind of relationship. Apparently there had been eight years of tension before he had gotten there.

He was sorry. Sorry that she had to see O'Neill die, sorry that they weren't in the right timeline, sorry that he couldn't be there to help . . . Sorry for so many things.

_Anyway, we're doing fine; all of us. We can only hope that you are doing the same._

_With love, Sam._

Jackson's handwriting followed hers: _The leg's fine --Daniel._

Cam chuckled. At least they were in good spirits, babies tended to do that to people.

The smile slowly faded. He missed them, both.

Sam's little white lie had fooled the government in ending their isolation. Cam just wished that it could have, somehow, ended his as well.

- . - - - . -


	16. XVI Sweet Home

Alternatives

Chapter XVI: Sweet Home

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG

- JOR - Based upon the Stargate: Atlantis episode "Enemy at the Gates" and the Stargate: Universe pilot; taking place shortly thereafter -

This is the last original chapter that I wrote for this story, however there are definitely more to come, so stay tuned.

- . - - - . -

It was more than a little obvious to everyone on duty that the Colonel was angry. No one was really sure how long she had been awake, but it must have been a while. Plus, they had just returned to Earth orbit that morning and she had been in meetings at the Pentagon all day.

Then, some genius decided that the water recycling system had to be replaced right then; at 2330. She was recalled to the ship right before she was supposed to go home.

If she had simply been "unhappy" before, now she was livid. She let the Chief Engineer have it, which was completely within her rights as both CO and co-designer of the _George Hammond_.

So, here it was, 0246, and Master Sergeant Benjamin was doing her best to get the Colonel off the _Hammond_ before the turn of the hour. She was assembling a list of things for Colonel Carter and the XO to deal with in the morning -- later in the morning.

She shouted in triumph at about 0255. She was caught up. She was getting the Colonel out of there before she killed someone.

Nearly running, Benjamin made her way to Engineering, where she found the Colonel and the Chief Engineer wedged between two panels, and the Colonel was shouting.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," Benjamin said, getting the officers' attention.

Both Colonel Carter and the CHENG squeezed out of the tight space, bumping into one another, causing Carter to glare at the CHENG.

"What is it, Sergeant?" Carter barked.

"Ma'am, everything is taken care of for the day, you can go home if you'd like."

"But -" the CHENG started, but shut up when Benjamin shot him a look. He held up his hands for a second. "The Sergeant is right, Ma'am. We can handle things from here. Good evening."

The Colonel dropped the tool she had been holding and adjusted her flight suit, which had been pushed askew by the tight quarters. "Thank you, Sergeant," she said, still irritated beyond all comparison, but trying to soften up a little.

"Seal that up and finish it in the morning when you can get a crew up here." She walked towards the door, but paused and turned back to the CHENG. "And I hope, _Major_, that you learned to let some things just _wait_."

"Yes, Ma'am," the CHENG replied. "Have a good evening, Ma'am."

She glared at him once more before storming out of Engineering, heading towards the beaming platform. She programmed new coordinates into the system.

"Someone, _please_, get me out of here," she said with breathy anger.

"Excuse me, Ma'am, these coordinates have not been authorized for beamdown. They appear to be a private residence," the Airman on duty said.

"Yes, they are, Airman," she emphasized his rank, but didn't offer any explanation, knowing that she didn't really have to.

"Aye, Ma'am. Have a good evening," the Airman said before activating the Asgard beam and sending her down. He looked at Benjamin once the Colonel fully disappeared.

"Ma'am, it's okay for me to just beam her to where ever she wanted to go, right?"

Benjamin smiled. "Yes, Airman. The Colonel is allowed to go where ever she wants, and you did a good job in waiting to ask after she was gone. She was not in the mood to explain that to you."

The Airman nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. I did notice that."

"Good night, Airman," Benjamin said and walked away, heading back to her office. She had to make sure everything was set for the Colonel when she got there later that morning. She also thought about having a discussion with he CHENG, but from the look Colonel Carter gave him, it was pretty obvious that the CHENG had learned his lesson -- and learned it well.

- . - . -

Sam was exhausted. She wanted to eat something. She really wanted to take a shower. But, mostly, she wanted to sleep.

From the living room -- where she materialized -- Sam made her way up the stairs of the loft Jack occupied full time, and she occupied whenever the _Hammond_ was in orbit. She reached into the nearest dresser and pulled out some sleeping clothes; which happened to be a pair of Jack's boxers and a skivvy shirt.

After brushing her teeth and running through the absolute bare minimum of her nightly routine, she crawled into bed next to her Space-Heater General.

He rolled over, feeling the shift of the bed. Throwing his arm over her, he burrowed his face into her shoulder.

She heard him inhale deeply.

"Mmmm, Carter," he mumbled, more asleep than awake.

Smiling to herself, she gripped his arm and settled in to sleep.

Home, sweet home.

- . - . -

Jack woke up to an empty bed.

He had gone to sleep alone that night, but was pretty sure that Sam had joined him some time during the night. He sat up and thought for a minute. He could have imagined it. She was supposed to come home last night, but there were a thousand and one reasons that she wouldn't have.

He swung his legs around the side of the bed and messaged the feeling back into his knee. He looked at the clock. 8:30. He was getting old if he was waking up after 0800.

He found the bathroom uncharacteristically warm and wet. He checked Sam's towel, it was wet as well. She had come home last night and taken a shower this morning. He hoped she was still there.

He padded down the stairs and to the kitchen, where he found her standing in front of the counter with the newspaper in one hand, pouring coffee into a mug with the other.

She wore a black skivvy shirt and a pair of sweatpants. From how tight she had the draw string pulled and how low they rested on her hips, it was pretty obvious that she had stolen his pants.

Jack walked over to her, leaned deliberately in front of her to grab a mug. He poured himself some coffee, grabbed the sports section off the counter, and placed a gentle kiss behind her ear.

She turned to him for a second and returned the kiss. "Morning."

"Morning," he replied, taking his seat at the table. Sam joined him after a moment or two, and after a few more minutes of morning calm, he spoke up. "What time did you get in last night?"

"Oh, about zero-three."

Jack winced.

She shrugged. "Well, CHENG just _had_ to start on the water recycling upgrade last night. And it turns out that several of the filters had some kind of fault in them and it turned into a mess, instantly. Sergeant Benjamin really fought to get me out of there when she did."

Jack smiled. "Remind me to send her a fruit basket." Sam chuckled at his joke. "What time do you need to be back?"

"Not until ten."

He set down his mug and smiled. "Really, an hour and a half? I wonder what we can do to fill the time?"

"Don't _you_ have to go to work, General?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I knew you'd be in, so I had Roeper push my first meeting back to 1130."

She got up, circled the table, and found a place in his lap. "How about we get some breakfast and I make sure I'm home a decent hour tonight. I'm giving most of the crew off tomorrow anyway."

"Decent hour?" he repeated.

"Oh, six, maybe seven."

"Seven?" he repeated again. "Home?" He shifted her in his lap, pulling her close to his chest. "Sweet."

- . - - - . -


	17. Worth Waiting For

Alternatives

Worth Waiting For

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG

- RMI - Based upon the season eight episode "Affinity," takes place during said episode -

- - - - -

Jack had been standing outside of Carter's lab for a few minutes now. She wasn't doing anything, which was weird. He had noticed that she had been acting a little weird recently. She seemed off her game. He didn't know why. Deciding on a course of action, he walked into her lab. "Carter."

"Sir," she looked up, suddenly aware of her surroundings again.

"I never thought I'd hear myself utter these words: I need that report." He made a broad gesture with his hands to accent his outlandish request.

"Right!" Carter looked around her desk. "Um, I just need to . . . Ah . . . finish typing up my notes."

_Liar_, he thought while she rummaged through the incredible stack -- not so much stack as conglomerate -- of papers on her desk.

"Uh, yeah. I'll have it for you first thing tomorrow."

Knowing perfectly well what time it was, Jack checked his watch for dramatic effect. "It is tomorrow."

Carter sunk a little. "Oh."

"I'm joking," he gave himself up. "I don't need the report."

"Well, then, why . . ." she looked perplexed.

"Because something's going on with you. You haven't tried to confuse me with any scientific babble for the last couple of days and that's a red flag to me." Actually, it was a sign to batten down the hatches and weather for the storm, but he didn't want to get over dramatic.

Carter thought to herself for a second, sighed, and handed him a small object: a ring box. "Pete gave me this," she said simply.

Wanting to see how fancy this guy was getting, Jack opened the box, and studied the ring. It was simple, not fancy, but classic. Looking up, he turned his attention back to Carter. "People normally wear these on their fingers."

"I haven't said yes."

That, there, was almost enough to drop to his knees and beg her to choose him instead. She was hesitating with Pete and that was all he needed; well, almost. "And yet," he said, thinking of the other side, "you haven't said no." He shut the box with a snap and set it down.

"I told him I need to think about it."

_Thinking about spending the rest of your life with the wrong man._ "And?" he asked, keeping his jealous thoughts to himself.

"That was two weeks ago."

_Yes!_ "Ah."

"You know, all these years I've been concentrating on work - I just assumed that one day I would . . ." she searched for words.

"Have a life?" he prompted, trying to keep his presence light. The last thing he needed to do was confuse her.

"Yeah," she agreed.

"Yeah," he echoed, wishing he could be the life she assumed she would one day have.

"And now it comes down to it, I don't know." It was strange to see Carter in such a conflicted, vulnerable position. "I mean, every time we go through the 'gate, we risk not coming back. Is it fair to put somebody else through that?"

_And you do it to me all the time,_ he thought. "Pete is a cop," he continued to play the devil's advocate. "I think he could handle it."

"What about kids?"

_I don't want to think about it._ "What about 'em?"

"Do I take maternity leave and then come back? What? Do I drop the baby off at daycare on my way to some unexplored planet on the edge of the Crab Nebula?"

She was getting a little worked up, and he continued to fight his heart. "Carter, there are people on this base who have families."

She thought to herself for a second, then met his gaze. "What about you? If things had been different . . ."

He shook his head. "What do you want me to say, Carter?" Oops, there it goes, he lost it. "Do you want me to tell you not to do it? Do you want me to tell you that I'm gonna retire tomorrow and that everything is going to be a perfect little cliché? Because you know I can't promise you anything."

She held his gaze, her eyes glistening. "I told myself, once, that if I knew there was no chance that I would let you--it, it . . . I would let it go. That's an easy thing to say when the rest of my life isn't on the table."

"And if there was a chance?" he asked.

She smiled sadly. "It's worth waiting for."

He leaned forward a little. "You, Samantha, are worth waiting for." He let the words hang for a second before standing upright again. "I don't want to be the man who put your life on hold."

"Too late for that."

He took a few steps around her desk, closing the distance between them. "You deserve more," he said softly.

"Than what?" she asked angrily.

"Than I can give you," he said, keeping his voice down and his tone soft. "You deserve more than this," he made a general gesture towards his person. "More than an old man who can't make any promises."

She stood up, evening their height slightly. "You're not an old man," she said softly.

"I will be by the time the circumstances change in our favor."

She started to reach out for him, but pulled her hand back. "Some things are worth waiting for."

He dropped his gaze, unable to look into her eyes any longer. "So, what do you want to do?"

"Wait."

When he looked back up, she was smiling. She was smiling that 'Carter Smile.' That '1000 Watt, I just blew up a sun' smile. She was going to give the ring back. He couldn't help but smirk back.

He glanced behind him, into the hallway. Seeing no one, he leaned forward and placed a small kiss on her lips, one that felt much bigger than it actually was. "Then we wait." He continued to smirk as he thought he saw her smile grow before turning and leaving. "We wait, Carter," he repeated as he left her behind.

That hadn't been his plan, but it was a hell of a lot better than being the devil's advocate for the rest of his life.

- - -


	18. All Us

Alternatives

All Us

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG

- JOR - Based upon Season Nine, and set somewhere around "Deus Ex Machina" to "Collateral Damage" in a possibly slightly altered reality.

- . - - - . -

"Okay," Carter said, causing Jack to look up from his steak. "I have to ask." He waited patiently for her brain actually form the words. "Is this a date?"

He thought for a second, not knowing how to answer and genuinely not knowing the answer to the question. "I don't know." He put down his fork, and decided to play it safe. "Do you want it to be a date?"

"Do you?"

He smirked, he wasn't going to let her get away with that one. "I asked you first."

Sam looked around a little, thinking. "I haven't called you 'Sir' yet," she replied tactfully.

"Yes, I noticed that." He _had_ noticed that. She hadn't called him 'Sir' all evening. It was a simple 'Hi,' when she picked him up and she had been avoiding pronouns all through dinner.

Her brow furrowed, unsure of how to take that comment. "Noticed as in 'Finally, she's not calling me Sir,' or 'Carter's being pretentious by not calling me Sir.'"

He pretended to consider it for a second, but answered when she gave him a deadpan glare. "The first one -- obviously the first one."

"So . . . Is this a date?"

Jack shrugged. "Let's avoid labeling things. If it goes well we'll call it a date, if it turns a little weird we'll go back to the awkward thing we've been doing for the past nine years." He wanted it to be a date, but was afraid of the title. If it was a date, it could end badly. If it was just two friends having dinner while one was in town . . .

She laughed, obviously seeing through him. "Sounds like a plan to me, _Sir_."

- . - . -

After dinner Sam drove him back to the hotel he was staying at while he was in the Springs. She turned off the car in the parking lot and they stared at the building for a moment.

"So was this a date?" he asked after a few seconds of slightly awkward silence.

She turned to look at him and smiled. "I think it was." It had certainly gone well enough for it to have been a date.

"Good," he said, "'cause then I can do this." He leaned over the console and kissed her lips softly. When he pulled away from her they were both smiling.

Sam looked around a little, seemingly searching for something.

"What?" he asked, his smile fading.

"No alien viruses, alternate realities, time loops, or hallucinations?"

His smile returned with a vengeance. "Nope, that one was all us."

"All us," she repeated quietly.

"Goodnight, Carter," he said, reaching for the door handle.

She quickly hit the lock, and he turned back to her. He stared as she, for the second time that evening, tried to form words. "You don't have to stay here tonight," she said quietly.

"But this is where my jammies are," he said. He was trying to protect her, she knew. He was letting her know that he knew exactly what she meant and he was giving her a way out right there.

She knew exactly what she was offering; nine years was a very long time. "The offer stands." She thought about making a remark about him not needing pajamas, but decided to keep her mouth shut and avoid embarrassing herself.

He leaned over the console again, allowing the kiss to linger this time. "This really how you want to end our first date?"

She knew what he really wanted; he was playing the devil's advocate because he knew her. He knew that she was usually such a cautious person . . . She nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Alright," he kissed -- lightly -- again. "Drive on, Carter."

She shot him a quick look as she started her car again.

"Sam," he corrected. "Drive on, _Sam_."

- . - - - . -


	19. The Fire Inside

Alternatives

The Fire Inside

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG-13 for mild language

- EAR - Based on the Season 6 episode: "The Changeling," The Firefighting Reality / Teal'c's hallucination; takes place several months before said episode and again right around said episode within said alternate reality -

I would just like to take this opportunity to point out that Coquitlam is outside of Vancouver. Why would Teal'c imagine that he is a Canadian firefighter instead of one from . . . say Colorado? Just sayin' . . .

- . - - - . -

Jack had a smile on his face when he pulled back from the kiss he just placed on her lips.

Sam was confused. She couldn't think of how the conversation they were having turned into a kiss. She tried to think back, but suddenly her mind was blank. The only thing she could think about were his lips.

"Wow," the word flew out of her mouth involuntarily.

"Wow?" he repeated.

"I - ah . . . just - I did not see that coming."

He paused for a second, allowing the sentiment to stand. Then, still smiling that patented O'Neill grin, he asked: "So?"

Her look of absolute bewilderment turned into a smile. "Wow," she repeated with a little more finesse. The word not representing her complete shock, but her positive reception.

Jack took a step closer to her, she unconsciously stepped back and bumped into the table behind her. They both shared a slightly nervous chuckle. She set her beer down on the table and reached out to his shirt as he leaned in.

Gently grabbing his shirt, she pulled him to her for another kiss; this one planned. She felt his arms around her waist slowly, trying to eliminate all space between them. After an absolutely undeterminable length of time, he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers; both of them breathing slightly heavy.

He smiled before tilting his chin up and capturing her lips again.

They broke apart quite abruptly when the bar erupted in cat-calls. They turned towards the bar full of off duty firemen. They were all yelling, laughing, and pointing at them.

Sam was pretty sure that her face had never turned colors as fast as it did just then. She turned a little away from Jack, if only to hide the fact that his left hand had drifted a little south of her hips.

He waved his right hand, and beer bottle, at them, causing the liquid to spill slightly. "Oh, shut up!"

"Yeah, Chief!" Reynolds called out to Jack, raising his beer in toast.

The rest of the men threw up their bottles as well with accompanying sentiments of "Chief!", "Thatta boy!", "All right, Sir!"

Sam's eyebrow shot up in playful annoyance; like being annoyed with your younger brother (or brothers).

Jack leaned in toward her ear, "Want to take this somewhere else?" he asked.

She shot her head over, eyes wide. "What?"

"They're already gonna talk." He looked up at all the eyes staring at them, "They're worse than a bunch of thirteen year old girls!" he raised his voice at them.

They all smiled, and some of them offered small bows or raised their bottles again.

Sam ran her tongue across her teeth with a devious smile. She reached back, and took another swig of her beer. She grabbed Jack's hand which was still settled on her backside. She sauntered over to the bar. "Another round for the house," she said to the barkeep, "and put it on my tab."

They all cheered again.

Sam turned away from the bar and headed towards the door, her hand still latched around Jack's.

"To Cap'ain Carter!" Reynolds shouted.

"Carter!" the bar erupted.

Sam left the bar with the biggest smile on her face and Deputy Chief Jack O'Neill in tow.

- - - Several Months Later

Detective Pete Shannahan sat at a table with a good view of the pool table. Sam Carter was hustling a couple of his colleagues and he just loved to watch. It wasn't the pool he was interested in.

In fact, it was Kerrick's turn, but Pete wasn't watching him. He was watching Carter, who was casually leaning on her cue.

O'Neill came up behind her -very close behind her - and offered her a beer. She took it with a smile and took a drink. He must have asked her something amusing because she let out a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a giggle, with that great big smile of hers. O'Neill then placed a kiss on the side of her neck as she stepped away from him and towards the table, where she went to work.

Sure, he knew that Carter was taken, but a man could dream, couldn't he?

"She is hot!" the new guy, Hansen, said, sitting down next to Pete, also with a good view of the pool table.

Pete just nodded and took a swig of his beer.

"She could put out my fire any time she wants."

Pete nodded again as Carter sunk the eight ball after running the table yet again.

For a few minutes, Pete and Hansen just watched her from across the bar.

"Mmh," the sound came from Hansen's throat. "I am going for that."

Pete shook his head. "I wouldn't. Her and O'Neill are a thing."

"The Fire Chief?" Hansen asked.

Pete nodded, a little sorely. "Yeah."

"Affair with the management?"

Pete was not sure if Hansen's comment was a joke or not. "Well, they were thing before he became Chief."

"Riding him straight to the top, isn't she? Naughty girl," Hansen said in a guttural tone.

Pete shot him a glance. "Hey, it's not like that." Hansen needed to calm down before something got out of hand.

"Are you kidding me? He's got to be - what? - ten, fifteen years older than her?"

Pete shook his head slowly. "Carter's not that kind of person."

"I'm going for it." Hansen finished his beer and stood up.

"O'Neill's _right_ there."

Hansen laughed. "Oh, he won't start anything. This place is crawling with cops and firemen. He hits me and this place'll turn into a brawl in no time. He can't be that stupid."

Pete was mentally kicking himself as he watched Hansen walk over to the bar, get two beers and head toward the pool table. "Hansen!" Pete tried to stop him. "Jonas!" It was no use.

Hansen waited for it not to be Carter's turn before stepping up to her. "You can really take care of those balls can't you?"

She slowly turned her head towards him with a half offended, half incredulous look. "Excuse me?"

He offered her one of the two beers in his hands. "Jonas Hansen."

She reached behind her and grabbed her own beer, taking a sip. "You must be the new big slick dick from Vancouver," she drawled.

He chuckled. "Slick as they come, baby."

She let out a small laugh as she stepped by him to the table, and lined up a shot.

A momentary look of disappointment flashed across Hansen's face, but disappeared when he tried again. "Since I'm new in town, I was wondering if you had any words of advice?"

"Don't hit on the fire fighters," she said without looking up from the table.

Hansen laughed again. "Maybe you might have something else to say over a nice dinner. I'm sure you know a good place in town."

She looked up at him. "Let me guess. You like old movies and long walks on the beach?"

"Carter?" O'Neill spoke up, after watching the entire conversation. "Is there a problem, or you got it?"

She smiled at him before looking back at Hansen. "Oh, don't worry, I got it," she said before turning back to the table.

Pete almost choked on his beer when Hansen really tried to go for it. As Carter leaned over the table for a shot, Hansen placed his hand somewhere he definitely shouldn't have and leaned into Carter's ear, "Come on, Baby, why don't you give this slick dick a try."

Carter was frozen stiff. "Get your hand _off my ass_," she hissed.

"Hey, I'll put my hand where ever you want."

Pete glanced over to O'Neill, who was on his feet, and about to crush the beer bottle he was holding with his hand.

Carter turned her head towards Hansen with a look that could kill. "I said _get your hand off my ass_."

Hansen flashed a greedy smile. "Detective not up enough for you? I'll be up for promotion in a month."

"What are you implying, _Detective_?" she hissed.

Pete watched in almost physical pain as Hansen pulled Carter a little closer to him. "I think you know what I'm sayin', Sweet Heart."

Then, in one of the fastest moves he had ever seen, Carter whipped her elbow around, catching Hansen across the face and following it up with a hook to his jaw.

The bar fell eerily silent as Hansen stared up at Carter from the floor, hand to his bleeding nose.

"Let me reiterate: don't hit on the firemen. And I'll give you some more advice, _Detective_, even though you were so reluctant to take it before. Never _ever_ call a girl a slut to her face." She set her cue up against a table, and turned to Kerrick. "You can have this round," she said referring to the table. Carter then stepped over Hansen and strutted out of the bar.

O'Neill crouched down to Hansen, "Shouldn't've put your hand on her ass," he said before following her out.

Pete got up and helped Hansen to his feet, handing him a bunch of napkins. "What a _bitch_," Hansen said, blood dripping down his face.

Pete looked at the two firemen coming toward them. He knew the large black man as "T" but didn't recognize the scrawnier young man with brown hair.

"Probie, did you just hear what I heard?" T asked.

"I think I did, T."

"I don't think so, because I just heard our friend here call Cap'ain Carter a bitch."

"Yep, that's what I heard," Probie said.

Pete stepped between them with his hands up in defense. "Hey, guys, no reason to get excited. Hansen, here, has had a little too much and I'll be taking him home right now."

T nodded. "That sounds like a good idea, Shannahan."

Pete turned and shoved Hansen towards the door.

"Hey, Hansen!" T called when they reached the doorway.

They both turned.

He smiled, "Welcome to Coquitlam."

- . - - - . -


	20. Carter's Side

Alternatives

Carter's Side

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG

- RMI - Based on the Season 4 episode: "Divide and Conquer"; takes place during and immediately following said episode -

Special dedication - ispksarcasm, for the "Divide and Conquer" request

- . - - - . -

Jack had learned to sleep on one side of the bed when he was married. Even now, years later, he still was in the habit of sleeping on one side, leaving the other side cold and empty. Right after he and Sara split, he would look at the empty space and wonder if it would ever be filled again. He doubted it, then.

Here he was, on the right side of his bed on base. He looked at the left side, Carter's Side, of the bed.

He didn't know exactly when he started calling the empty side of his bed 'Carter's Side.' It was a while ago. Before they went back in time, he thought. Maybe not, maybe it was after. It was definitely before they were picked up by Hathor. He was sure of that because he remembered thinking -- after they told him they were all dead -- Carter's Side was always going to be cold. There was no chance of her ever actually taking her spot.

When he found her lying on that bed, covered in that _really thin_ sheet, a wave of relief had passed through him. Carter's Side was still _Carter's Side_. And there was a chance that Carter's Side would actually become _Carter's Side_.

It didn't matter where he was sleeping, what bed he was in, the empty side was always Carter's Side.

He noticed when he went to see her earlier that she was sitting on the right side of the bed, his side. Now, sitting in his own bed he was seriously considering switching sides. Apparently, the right side was Carter's Side, which meant his side should be the left side. But that was just ridiculous.

It wasn't really Carter's Side, he knew that, it never would be. That was why he was still on the right side -- his side-- looking over at "Carter's Side."

He hoped that they would both survive this so that Carter's Side could actually become Carter's Side.

- . - . -

"You are not a za'tarc."

"Thank you," Sam exhaled with slight annoyance.

O'Neill rushed over to her and tore of her arm restraints, allowing her to remove the band at her forehead and stand up.

"I think we need to talk about this," she said.

He nodded. "Yeah, I think we do."

She looked past him at Anise, and nodded. "Later."

He offered a small smile. "Later."

- . - . -

Jack lay in his bed, his bed at home, staring at Carter's Side. She had sent him an e-mail today after everything had cooled down. She had shot and killed Martouf, which was pretty awful. The summit went well; other than he almost got his brain fried and Martouf was killed because he had been brainwashed.

She said that she wanted to talk about things, but she needed a day or so. So, she suggested a time and place and he replied with a simple affirmative "See you then" and gave her her space.

Even now, he was hugging his side of the bed a little more, making Carter's Side as large as possible. He knew it was ridiculous, but it was Carter's Side and she needed her space.

- . - . -

Sam sat at a table in a coffee shop. She was early. They said they were going to meet at 1, but she was early. She got there around 12.30 and it was the longest half hour of her life.

Then, to make things worse, O'Neill was late. To be fair, it was only 1.02. But, still . . . Of all the things to be late for . . . He chose the meeting that they were going to decide what they were going to do about their relationship, or lack there of.

She hadn't been drinking the drink in front of her, just so it would look like she had just gotten there. It was cold now. She looked back at the door as she heard it open and felt suddenly relived and terrified at the same time.

He walked over to her and sat down on the other side of the table.

"Hi," she said.

"I saw your car outside . . . I just had to decide to come in," he answered.

"When did you get here?"

He shrugged. "Twenty minutes ago."

Well, at least he was just as nervous as she was."So . . ."

He nodded. "So . . ."

She released a nervous laugh.

Boldly, he reached across the table and grabbed her hand. "I am not going to ask you to resign, and don't offer, because I won't let you. You are too important to this program and that brain of yours is the only thing driving that whole mountain forward."

"Listen, Sir - Jack, no one is going to let you resign either. They pulled you out of retirement for this and as much as you hate to admit it you are important to the program."

"Any ideas?"

She smiled nervously and shook her head. "For once . . . No." She drummed her fingers, and dropped her eyes. "I mean -- what can we do?"

"Nothing."

Her gaze shot up, "Nothing?" she repeated. "I don't know if I can do nothing."

"I'm not saying that we leave what we said in the room. I'm just saying that we don't do anything that . . ." he trailed off.

"That could be construed as unprofessional?"

He nodded. "Exactly."

"What's the difference between that and what we've been doing?"

He offered her a smile. "We're not ignoring anything anymore."

- . - . -

"Hey," a voice derailed her train of thought. She looked up and saw Jack O'Neill leaning in through her doorway.

She smiled back. "Hey."

"What's going on?" he asked, walking in and taking his usual position on the other side of her desk.

"Oh, you know, science stuff."

"Ah," he scanned her desk for something he could pick up. "The best kind of _stuff._" He found a remote mouse for the projector in the briefing room and started fiddling with it.

She suppressed a smile before he looked back up at her. He made a conscious effort to not break anything important. Ever since . . . Well, ever since _recently_.

She watched him smile at her for a few long seconds.

"You don't have to stop working just because I'm here."

"It's a little hard to focus when you're standing right there."

He set down her remote and took a step back. "How about here?"

She laughed and shook her head.

He took a few steps towards the door. "Here?"

"Goodbye, Sir," she said, turning back to her computer.

"Here?" he asked again.

She looked up to see his head peaking around her corner. She laughed. "Goodbye, Sir," she repeated a little louder.

His head disappeared and her tried to remember where she had been when he interrupted her.

"HERE?!" she heard him shout from the hallway.

She shook her head, a small laugh escaping, and once again tried to return to her work.

He did that more often, she noticed: came and bothered her at random times for no reason. It was always a nice little distraction during the day. It was one of the reasons she lo--one of the reasons she felt about him the way she felt about him.

- . - . -

Lieutenant Graves was getting his things out of his locker when he started overhearing two Airmen.

"Have you seen O'Neill and Carter recently?" Airman Farris asked.

Airman Lyons nodded. "Yeah. They have gotten a little _familiar_, don't you think?"

Farris nodded. "I wish I was that _familiar_ with Major Carter," he smile and Lyons chuckled. "But seriously, do you think they're sleeping together?"

Lyons shook his head slowly. "I have no idea. I mean, they're not stupid, but . . . This kind of stuff actually happens. I was reading something in the Air Force Times about the list of officers fired this year for fraternization. You'd be shocked to see how many people were on that list."

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Graves walked over.

"Good morning, Sir," Farris and Lyons said together.

"I overheard a bit of your conversation and I would like to set the record straight."

Neither Farris or Lyons said anything.

"Neither Colonel O'Neill or Major Carter are acting inappropriately. However, if you ever do suspect anything, you should report it up your chain of command. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," they replied.

"Carry on." Graves turned away as they responded again. He didn't know if O'Neill and Carter were doing anything inappropriate or not, but people were gossiping. He had to report it up _his_ chain of command. He had to go find Colonel Reynolds.

- . - . -

Daniel watched Sam and Jack walk into the Commissary, go through the line, and then take a table in the corner. He was perplexed for a few minutes. How could have they not have seen him? He ate slowly as he watched them.

Colonel Dixon sat down next to him before Daniel even noticed he was there. "Sittin' by yourself, Jackson?"

"They didn't sit with me," he said slowly. Then, almost as if breaking out of a trance, he turned to the Colonel. "That sounded like I was a twelve year old girl, didn't it?"

Dixon laughed. "I wasn't going to mention it." He took a bite of his lunch and joined Daniel in watching Sam and Jack. "Have you noticed something different about those two?"

Daniel nodded. "I have."

"You don't think they're sleeping together, do you?"

"What?! No!" Daniel spat, perhaps a little too quickly. "No," he repeated. "I would know, if they were." He noticed his voice had started to trail off a little, and realized that he couldn't really be sure about it.

Dixon regarded him carefully, also entertaining the thought that they were actually sleeping together. "But they _are_ acting different."

"It's almost like they're married," Daniel said, immediately regretting the implication, "except for, you know, the sleeping together."

Dixon snorted. "Sounds like a marriage to me."

Daniel tried to ignore Dixon and finish his meal without seriously considering that Sam and Jack were making the biggest mistake of their lives. He shook his head subconsciously. They wouldn't be sleeping together. They couldn't be sleeping together. They wouldn't ruin their careers like that. They just wouldn't.

Daniel watched Sam tip her head back and laugh at something Jack said.

Or would they?

- . - . -

"Jack, you got a minute?" Reynolds stopped him from leaving the briefing room; leaving the two of them alone. Reynolds looked around, almost paranoid that there were still people around.

"What's up, Reynolds?"

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What?"

"Carter."

"Carter? What about her?"

Reynolds forced a laugh. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Hey, no body's breaking any rules."

"The rules don't start applying when someone's boots under someone else's bed!"

Jack stared in silence, unsure of how to respond to Reynolds.

The Marine took a deep breath and looked around, gathering his thoughts. "It doesn't really matter if you're breaking the rules. What matters is perception. And the perception is that you and Carter are . . . are doing something that you shouldn't."

"What do you think?"

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"What do you think?" Jack repeated, a little slower and more emphatically.

Reynolds sighed. "I know there's nothing _inappropriate_ going on, and -- really -- I think everyone else knows that, too, but . . . Come on, Jack, you have to know what's going on here."

He shrugged, his hands shoved in his pockets. "No, you're right. You're right, they taught us about this when we were Cadets. I'll -- We'll talk about it."

- . - . -

"They're right," Jack said walking into Carter's lab.

She looked up from her computer. "What?"

"They're right," he repeated, leaning on the other side of her desk.

"Who is?"

"_They_ are, about us."

"Oh," she closed her computer and folded her hands in front of her uncomfortably.

"So whatever is going on right now needs to change."

"I can't go back to pretending."

Jack shook his head. "We shouldn't have to."

"But --"

"I know about the rules. I've read the damn book backwards and forwards."

"So, what now?"

"You'll think of something, Carter." He smirked. "You're brilliant."

- . - . -

Jack lay on his back with a little smile on his face. By all rights, he shouldn't be smiling. His job now officially sucked. They called it a promotion but it wasn't; not really. They "promoted" him off of SG-1 to Operations -- which meant paperwork, a lot of paperwork.

Carter was off SG-1, too. She was given a post as the liaison between the SGC and Area 51. So, she was happy, generally. Basically, she got to tear apart everything brought back and send it on to Area 51 whenever she was done with it. She also supervised the application of anything Area 51 came up with. She didn't get to carry a gun on a regular basis, but it was a give-and-take as far as she was concerned.

He turned his head to the left, towards Carter's Side and smiled at the sleeping form. It really was _Carter's Side_ now. She was curled up on her side away from him.

She didn't work for him, not anymore.

Jack just watched her for a few minutes, still amazed that she was sleeping in her spot in his bed on a regular basis. It really was her spot now. He turned and sidled up next to her, wrapping his arms around her.

She stirred, his motion disturbing her sleep. "Jack?" she mumbled, reaching back and fingering his hair.

He kissed her shoulder. "Nothin', go back to sleep." He tucked his head down and closed his eyes.

She gripped his hand and seemingly fell back asleep.

He hated his new job. But, his new job -- along with anything and everything they could or would throw at him -- was completely worth having Carter's Side actually be _Carter's Side_.

There he was, laying with his arms around Samantha Carter on her side of his bed.

Yeah. Completely worth it.

- . - - - . -


	21. Walk Away

Alternatives

Walk Away

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG

- RMI - Takes place late season 8 -

- . - - - . -

"It's over," he said. "I'm done."

He could hear her response, her pleas, as he had heard them in his mind so many times before, when he had previously imagined this conversation.

_"Wait."_

"NO!" he raised his voice. "I've done the _waiting_ thing! I did it for a long time, Samantha! I'm done waiting!"

_"But,"_ she whispered his name like only she could. _"I love you."_

"NO!" he shouted again. "You don't love me! I don't know if you ever loved me!" He took a deep breath. "You loved the idea of me," he spat. "You loved the idea of someone you could come home to and someone who could take care of you, but . . ."

Pete paused midsentence and stared at his reflection. Nope. He couldn't do it. He couldn't yell at her.

Oh! What if she started crying?

He definitely wouldn't be able to yell at her if she started crying. No chance in hell that he could yell at her if she was crying.

He ran his hands over his face, pausing to rub his chin. He should shave before he went over to her place. He was going to walk away tall. He wasn't going to let her know that she was killing him.

- . - . -

"Pete!"

At least she was pleasantly surprised to see him. "We have to talk," he said. He knew it was cliché, but it got the point across.

She stepped aside and let him into her home. "Oh my God," she said, realizing exactly what he needed to say.

He only took a few steps inside, enough for her to close the door behind her. "I'm ending this, Sam."

Her hand went to her mouth, "Oh my God."

Tears welled in her eyes. _Damn_, he thought. The sight of her crying really almost changed his mind. "It's over, I'm done."

"Pete, wait . . ."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sam. I know I said that I was gonna love you forever, but I'm gonna need that ring back."

She clutched her left hand protectively. "Pete we can talk about this. Just tell me what's wrong and we can work it out."

He shook his head again. "There's nothing to talk about," he said, keeping his voice quiet and calm. "Just . . . just give me the ring and I'm gonna walk away."

Tears slipped from her eyes as she pulled the ring off her finger. "Pete, I just-" she dropped the ring in his outstretched hand.

"I know," he said. "But, I'm done." He stepped past her, opened the door, and stepped out onto her porch. "I wish you the best of luck, Sam, and I hope that you can be truly happy one day."

He walked away. He knew she was still standing in the doorway, watching him leave. He got into his car, glad that he decided to back into her driveway so he didn't have to look at her again. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

And he walked away.

- . - . -

_O'Neill_, the letter said.

_Don't you think for one second that I'm "letting you have her." Because I'm not. I wouldn't do that. For one, on principle, I wouldn't let anyone "have" my fiancé._

_I left her because she should never would have been happy with me. Sure, for a short while things would have been great. But, one day, she would have realized that she didn't love me and that marrying me ruined her life. She would end up hating me and hating herself. I couldn't do that to her._

_I couldn't do that to myself, but I definitely couldn't do that to her._

_So, when things finally change for you two, make her happy. Make her happy because, in the long run, I never could. _

It was signed, simply, _Pete Shannahan._

Jack frowned at the letter. Shannahan had sent it to his home, obviously meaning for Carter to never see it. That was good, he never wanted to show it to Carter.

Jack looked out the window absent mindedly. Kerry Johnson had wanted to go to dinner with him. He was going to call and cancel. To be honest, he only took the date because Carter was getting married. _Hey, what do I have to lose?_ he had thought at the time.

Carter had always been his "issue," his "baggage." He thought that since she was getting married, she wouldn't be anymore. But, now she wasn't getting married, and he -- sure as hell -- wasn't going to move on now.

He was going to wait it out a little longer, and then try to make her happy.

He nodded slowly to himself, staring out his back window. One day, he was going to make her happy. Because it was the right thing to do.

- . - - - . -


	22. Babysitting

Alternatives

Babysitting

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: G

- RMI - Takes place between "Enemy at the Gates" and "Continuum" -

- . - - - . -

Colonel Samantha Carter got out of the black suburban that tended to drive her around while she was home in DC. She grabbed her brief case, bid good evening to her driver and walked up to the townhouse she shared with one Major General Jack O'Neill, retired.

She always considered herself a very independent person, but she had to admit: she liked living with him. It was the stupid little things that she liked. It was coming home to a house with lights left on by someone else for her. A refrigerator full for two people. Her shampoo and conditioner bottles at the same level.

Which, as a side note, bothered the hell out of her. How did she always use so much more conditioner than shampoo? But with Jack using her shampoo, the bottles stayed level, which did wonders for her minor case of OCD.

She did the same amount of laundry, because Jack did a few loads every now and again. She liked having someone there to help her fold the sheets. She loved having someone there to keep the sheets warm when it was cold out -- she was looking forward to that part of the relationship right now, it being late January and freezing.

Yes, she was definitely glad to be home from her "business trip" to a small planet on the other side of the galaxy, and looking forward to a few days off.

She was supposed to have gone back on the _Hammond_ finish the last week on her six month tour before turning it over to the Blue Crew, commanded by Colonel Cameron Mitchell. She had to admit, she liked the Blue Crew/Silver Crew system better. 'Six months on, six months off' made her schedule nice.

Colonel Mitchell took over her position a little early because she was needed for some negotiations with the Tok'ra. The negotiations had gotten over with earlier than expected, so she was allowed to enjoy a brief vacation.

She unlocked the door and entered the home. She kicked off her heels as soon as she got in the door and put her coat in the closet, taking a moment to shiver off the chill from the weather. She put her shoes in their place in the closet.

Venturing further into their home, she took of her jacket and dropped it on the hall table, reminding herself to pick it up later. She heard the television on and knew Jack was in the living room. She took off her neck tab and started on the buttons on her shirt.

She stopped in her tracks at the image before her. Jack was lying on his back on the sofa, asleep, dead to the world. He had the afghan half pulled up over his legs and stomach. Both his hands rested gently on the infant lying on his chest.

Her heart would have panged at the adorable sight were she not so bewildered.

Why was she bewildered?

They didn't have a baby.

But, sure as Jack was asleep, was a baby lying on his chest. It was a small baby, too; the kind that can lift its head and roll from its stomach to back, but not much else.

She stared at them for a moment. They were both fast asleep, which was cute, but . . . Who's baby was that?

Sam made her way over and sat on the coffee table, facing Jack. She turned, in search of the remote, and turned the television off. As soon as the sound stopped, a forceful hand grabbed her knee. She jumped, and whipped around.

"Jesus, Carter," Jack relaxed back into the couch as he recognized her. "Don't do that to me." He released his death grip on her knee, patted her thigh, and then rested his arm on his forehead. He absent-mindedly rubbed the baby's back with his other hand.

"You don't have another girlfriend, who you got pregnant, do you?" she asked.

"What?" he dropped his arm and looked up at her. He followed her gaze to his chest.

"Who's baby is that?"

"What? Oh! Cassie's."

Oh, it was Cassie's baby. That made perfect sense . . . Wait a second, no it didn't. "Why do you have Cassie's baby?"

Jack stretched a little, not moving too much under the baby. "When Cassie called me this week, she asked if I was doing anything this weekend. I told her no, because you weren't supposed to get back until Thursday. She asked me if I would look after little George here so she and Elliot could get away for the weekend. You know, she says that ever since Elliot got stationed here in Washington, that they really haven't had a lot of time together, especially after this little guy came around."

"Do you talk to Cassie a lot?" Sam asked.

He nodded. "We talk about once a week."

Sam tilted her head. Really? Jack on the phone regularly?

"Okay, so she does most of the talking," he clarified, reading the expression on her face. "I think she just wants to make sure I'm not going crazy from boredom. Crazy or senile . . ."

Sam nodded. Okay, that did make sense.

"What are you doing home? I thought you were supposed to be with the Tok'ra for another few days."

"I was. But we were able to come to a decision much quicker than planned. Fortunately, Martouf was able to be there, which helped a lot. I was able to come home because we're going back next week."

"We?" Jack repeated.

Sam nodded. "We've been asked to attend an extraction ceremony."

"Really? Whose?"

"Ba'al's."

Jack fell silent for a moment, looking at the baby asleep on his chest. "Who's we?" he asked at length.

"You, me, Daniel, and Teal'c. Vala, Cameron Mitchell . . ."

"Mitchell?"

Sam smiled. "The _Hammond_ found him when I was with the Tok'ra."

Jack smirked. "Who knew you could turn a 302 pilot into a good bounty hunter?"

"Who knew you would turn into a Top Secret babysitter?"

He chuckled. "What can I say? I get along with babies; we enjoy the same things . . . cake . . . long naps . . ."

"You are so cute," Sam said, running his fingers through his already messy hair.

"Also something we have in common."

She leaned down and kissed his lips before standing up. "How about I make some dinner then?"

She heard Jack slowly get up behind her. "Mmmm, dinner, how positively domestic."

She chuckled. "I get this way when I come home to two handsome boys in my living room."

- . - - - . -


	23. Photograph

Alternatives

Photograph

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG

- EAR/RMI - Based upon the season three episode "Point of View." Takes place just after said episode in the established alternate reality and several months after in an alternate reality similar to the established canon -

- . - - - . -

George looked up from his desk as Doctor Samantha Carter walked into the pathetic remains of his office. He smiled at her. "Doctor, to what do I owe this pleasant visit?"

She took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of his desk. "I went to see Doctor Fraiser this morning."

Fraiser had only been around for a few days; she had replaced Doctor McKenzie, who was killed in the Goa'uld attack. "Right, our new CMO. How is she?"

Samantha smiled. "She's very sweet," she paused for a moment, and quickly added, "And she's a good Doctor."

George returned her smile. "Good." The smile had already faded from Samantha's face, betraying the darker emotions she was feeling. George's smile faded as well as he noticed. He didn't want to ask if everything was alright, because it was obviously not. "What's bothering you?" he opted.

She wrung her hands together for a second, trying to decide what she wanted to say. "This morning Doctor Fraiser told me that I was pregnant."

It took all his self control to keep his eyebrows on his face and his mouth shut. Once he succeeded in that, he tried to think of something encouraging to say.

"I just feel . . ." she tried.

George stood up, round his desk and put his hand on her shoulder. "You're not alone," he said.

She gripped his hand. "I know," she said as the tears started to drip down her face.

He crouched and put his arms around her, and she leaned into his embrace. "Really," he whispered.

- . - . - Several Months Later

"You wanted to see me, Sir?" Major Samantha Carter said as she walked into the Briefing Room.

George turned away from the window overlooking the 'gate room when she came in. "You got some mail, Major."

"Mail, Sir?" she asked, obviously wondering why a general in the United States Air Force suddenly became a postal worker.

He smiled. "Yes. It came in an interesting manor." He picked up a remote and pressed 'play' and a video of a storage room at Area-51. He glanced at Carter as she watched the surveillance feed. It showed the Quantum Mirror spring to life. Through it came one Major Charles Kawalsky. He smiled and waved a mock salute in the camera's direction.

He held up a small object, showing it to the camera, dropped it on the floor and went back through the mirror, closing it behind him.

George turned back to Carter, who was watching him. He handed her the letter. It was still sealed. No one felt that it needed to be read, seeing as how it had been delivered.

She examined it carefully, no doubt noticing that it was addressed to her in her own hand. She opened it and removed three pieces of paper. She glanced at two of them quickly and then handed them to him as she unfolded the third piece.

"Dear Major," she read aloud, "Congratulations, we're a mommy." Carter looked up at him with a shocked expression. After a moment, she turned back to the letter and continued to read it silently.

As she read, George looked at the two pages she handed him. They were pictures of a baby. He glanced at the back, which read a name, date, and age. It was an adorable baby, and looked to be average size, perhaps a little small, but healthy none-the-less.

"She didn't know she was pregnant when she came through the mirror," Carter said once she had finished reading.

George regarded her carefully. She dropped her hands and turned towards the window, overlooking the Embarkation Room.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She took a deep breath.

"I haven't seriously thought about having kids in years," she answered in a distant voice.

"Maybe she hadn't either." George looked at the pictures in his hands and smiled again. He stepped up behind her and held his hand out in front of her, showing her the pictures. "But she wanted you to have these."

She turned to meet his gaze. "I keep thinking that there's a hidden message behind them."

George put his hand on her shoulder gently. "Maybe there is, but she may not know what's best for _your_ life."

A sad smile graced her face. "You're right, Sir. Thank you."

"Anytime, Major," he dropped his hand and stepped back. "Dismissed."

- . - . -

Sam was putting one of the pictures in a frame when she heard someone step into her lab. She looked up to see Colonel O'Neill. "Good morning, Sir."

"Morning, Carter."

She set the picture upright on the book shelf behind her desk.

"Who's that?" he asked.

She smiled. "That's my baby."

He paused for a second, seemingly considering her answer. "What?" he asked in that tone which meant _I have absolutely no idea what you just meant_.

"_Doctor_ Samantha Carter - you know the one who came through the Quantum Mirror?" she waited for him to nod before she continued, "had a baby. She thought I would want a picture."

He nodded slowly. "Who was . . . um?" He made several vague gestures with his hands. "You know . . ."

Sam thought how to phrase it for a fraction of a second. "Her husband was the father."

He nodded. "Oh."

She watched him hand awkwardly in the middle of her lab for a few moments. "Was that all, Sir?" she asked, throwing him a line.

He nodded, somewhat distracted, and started to meander towards her door. He paused at the threshold and turned back to her. "You wouldn't mind if I had a copy of that, would you?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Not at all, Sir. I'll make you one."

He returned her smile. "Thanks, Carter."

She watched him as he left, leaving herself a mental note to make a copy of the photograph for him. She glanced back at the photo, thinking.

It was possible.

They were.

Their baby was smiling in the picture.

Sam smiled to herself as she turned back to her work.

It was definitely possible.

- . - - - . -


	24. HumWorthy

Alternatives

Hum-Worthy

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG (very mild language)

- JOR - Based in Season Nine, takes place immediately after Alternatives Ch 18. "All Us".

- . - - - . - MONDAY MORNING

Daniel stood in the elevator, waiting for it to drop him to his floor. It paused, two levels above his goal and admitted a one Samantha Carter.

"Oh, hi Sam," he said with a smile.

"Hi Daniel," she sounded chipper.

They stood side by side in a comfortable silence for a few second as the elevator started again until Sam started humming. Daniel's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he jerked his neck around to look at her. She was standing there humming to herself with a smile on her face.

She paused, feeling his gaze and turned to him with a quizzical look. "Yes?"

He shook his head slowly. "Um, nothing . . ."

She regarded him carefully, obviously not believing him. He continued to stare as the elevator stopped again and the doors opened.

"This is your stop," she said after a few seconds of him not leaving. He gapped for a second, before stepping backward out of the elevator, not letting his eyes off her. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

He nodded as the doors closed. As soon as they did, he took off running down the hall. He knew Teal'c and Mitchell were in the gymnasium, he had been on his way there to find them anyway, though he could no longer remember why.

"MITCHELL!" he called out as he careened through the doors.

Mitchell dropped the dead lift bar and whipped around. "What?"

Teal'c, too, looked concerned.

"SAM!" he cried, regaining his breath.

Mitchell rushed over and grabbed his shoulders roughly. "What about Sam?"

"Sam," Daniel repeated, thinking of how to phrase it. "Sam."

"Sam . . ." Mitchell offered.

"Sam is sleeping with someone," he finally managed.

Mitchell stepped back but leaned forward. "What?"

"Sam is seeing someone," he rephrased.

"How do you know that?"

"She was humming!"

Daniel saw the smile creep onto Teal'c face.

"That doesn't mean anything," Mitchell said.

Daniel shook his head. "No, it means something. It means she's having sex with someone."

"Hey!" Mitchell started waving his hands around. "I don't need to heard that about someone who's like my sister."

"Doesn't make it any less true," Daniel insisted.

"You don't really have any proof."

Daniel glanced at Teal'c, who spoke up. "On the contrary, Colonel Mitchell, Daniel Jackson and myself have observed this phenomena with Colonel Carter before."

Mitchell eyed them both dubiously.

"I wonder who it is," Daniel thought aloud.

"O'Neill was in town this past weekend, was he not?"

Daniel's eyes popped wide open once again. "No . . ." he breathed. "You think?"

Teal'c nodded. "I do. O'Neill and Colonel Carter had a dinner engagement Friday evening. On Saturday, O'Neill called me to cancel our plans to visit the traveling Gun and Knife Exposition."

Mitchell looked up at Teal'c. "Is that why you invited me? Because the General bailed?"

Teal'c did not answer.

Daniel thought hard. He snapped his fingers. "I was supposed to take him to the airport on Sunday morning, but he emailed me and told me he'd just take a cab."

Teal'c nodded with an affirming eyebrow raise.

"Why did he call you but just email me?"

"I'm your backup date to General O'Neill?"

Teal'c stood stone silent, as usual.

Mitchell shook his head, turning the conversation back to Sam. "Okay, that doesn't mean anything. I don't think anything's happening. I mean, they go on one date after nine years and all of the sudden they're sleeping together? I don't think so."

"Why do we not ask Colonel Carter?"

Daniel and Mitchell stared at each other a moment. "Yeah," Daniel said, "lets."

- . - . -

Sam sat at the table in her lab, trying to figure out the schematic in front of her. She looked up when Cam, Daniel, and Teal'c filed into her lab. They took up semi circle positions on the other side of the table and watched her.

"Hey guys," she said, glancing up for a second.

"Hey, Sam," Daniel replied.

"So . . . Sam," Cam started, she looked up. He paused, forming words. "We want to ask you a question."

"Yes?" Their blank stares scared her a little.

Cam and Daniel looked at each other, thinking.

Teal'c, obviously sick of their inaction, spoke. "We wish to know whether you have started a sexually intimate relationship with O'Neill."

If she had been drinking something, she would have spit it out, as it was she choked on her own saliva. Daniel and Cam glared at Teal'c for spitting it out. "WHAT!" was her only answer.

"We wish to know-" Teal'c started to repeat himself.

"No!" Sam waved her arms, "please do not say that again!"

"So, have you?" Daniel asked, Sam could practically hear his knees knocking together.

Sam considered - for brief moment - denying the whole thing, but it would come out eventually. "How'd you find out?" she asked.

"What?" Cam asked in very O'Neillian manner. "Really?"

"Ha!" Daniel pointed an accusing finger to Cam. "I told you!"

Sam waved her hands and whistled to get their attention.

"You were humming, in the elevator this morning," Daniel replied.

Sam nodded slowly. "Please don't give me crap for this, guys. We were just going to keep it to ourselves for a little while. A couple of days, maybe."

"No, Sam, it's fine," Cam rushed. "We were just wondering. We care about you and your life. If there were any problems, we want to help you. Not to say that you couldn't handle our own problems, but you know . . ."

"Colonel Mitchell," Teal'c interrupted, "I believe you should stop speaking before you cause yourself embarrassment."

Cam's mouth snapped shut and he nodded.

"We're happy for you Sam," Daniel said at length.

"Thank you."

"We're just gonna . . ." Daniel motioned to the hall, "go back to what we were doing before."

Sam nodded with a smile. They were cute when they got flustered.

"We'll see you later."

"Bye."

Cam muttered a goodbye and Teal'c nodded on his way out. She chuckled after they left. She turned to her email and sent one to Jack:

_The team knows. Apparently I was humming in the elevator this morning_. _-Sam_

Not five minutes later her phone rang. She picked it up, "Carter."

"So, I'm hum-worthy?"

- . - - - . -


	25. The Man in Her Memories

Alternatives

The Man in Her Memory

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: T - WARNING: brief harsh language, darker content

- RMI - Takes place Season 3, between "Past and Present" and "A Hundred Days" -

- . - - - . -

The first night it happened, she picked someone who looked like him. Above average height, but not a giant. Toned muscle with a little bulk, but generally lean. Salt and pepper hair, cut short and tight. Strong jaw with squarely chiseled facial features. Clean shaven. Eyes that could see through her.

That was what she looked for the first time. She wanted someone like the man in her memory.

She had had . . . well, she couldn't remember how many shots of whiskey she had had that night. A lot, she presumed. She could see, and could generally think, and she had feeling in her limbs, but no emotions ran through her. She felt empty, yet fulfilled as the grief didn't swell with every breath. At least, she didn't think it did.

He saw her watching him from across the bar, and he sauntered over with a slight smirk. He didn't smile, he smirked.

The man in her memory hadn't smiled a lot either. He was a smirk-er.

He hadn't said much when he sat down, but neither had she. They just stared at each other with dark eyes. She reached across the space between them and put her hand on his thigh. He asked her if she wanted to take it somewhere else.

She told him that they could go to her place, it wasn't far. He could drive and she could get her car in the morning.

He stood up, placing his hands on her hips. They were worn, his hands, like the hands of the man in her memory. Her gripped her firmly, but not tightly. He leaned down and kissed her lips, no doubt tasting the whiskey. He helped her to her feet anyway.

Her legs were almost wrapped around his waist by the time they made it to his vehicle. Stumbling over each other, her back slammed into a car door. "This is me," he muttered, breaking his lips from her skin for a split second.

She craned her neck and saw the vehicle she was pressed up against. It was a dark green Ford pickup truck.

The tears came.

They didn't drip silently down her face, they came in racking sobs which cut off her air supply. He released her instantly and took a step back. "Oh my god, are you okay?" he asked.

He had thought he had hurt her, maybe in the impact with his truck.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry," she choked out. "I'm so sorry, I can't do this." She practically ran away from him, barely able to breathe. He was too much like the man in her memory.

She sat in her car for twenty minutes choking on her own tears. They finally fell silent and she drove herself home. Upon kicking off her shoes, she caught a glimpse of the team photo on the wall and the racking sobs returned. She went to bed, fully dressed, and cried like there was no tomorrow. She called in sick the next day, and went through the entire fifth of Jack Daniels that had been in her liquor cabinet.

It was the first fifth she had bought after graduating college, and had only taken a few shots out of it in ten years. One when she finally left Jonas, two when her father finally lost his battle with lymphoma, and perhaps a handful of other times. She left it sideways in the sink next to the glass she had abandoned after three shots.

After that, she avoided the men that looked like him. She instead went for everything else. Tall and lanky. Short and stocky. Guys who looked like they were linebackers in college. Young guys, often. Many of them were at least a few years younger than her. A lot of them were probably still in college. But she didn't care. She couldn't really feel it anyway.

She didn't know how long it went on. She went to work every day 9-5. Her team wasn't going off world because they were still searching for a replacement for their leader. Fridays and Saturdays she went out and drank, a lot. She almost always came home with someone who was usually gone by the time she woke up. She never felt hungover, just still drunk to the point of numbness. When she didn't go out, she drank at home at her kitchen table with the lights off.

If she tried really hard, she could hear his voice or see his face. No matter how hard she tried, she could never feel his skin. They had never gotten that chance.

She never dreamed. If she did, she didn't remember it. She always waking up the same. If she felt any different, she drank more. She trudged on. She knew that every day she lived like this she became less and less of the woman from her memory. But that was okay, she just didn't care.

- . - . -

Daniel pulled into her driveway, careful not to block the other vehicle, which he did not recognize. He walked up to her front door and pulled out his key. He wasn't really surprised to find the door unlocked. Sam had become apathetic in the past six weeks. He didn't blame her, not really.

But he was disappointed. Hell, he was angry now. She was slowly killing herself.

He looked around her home in disgust. She obviously hadn't done anything in six weeks except drink. There were more alcohol bottles than he could imagine. She must have bought the entire corner liquor store. The trash can was full, then the floor immediately around it, then onto the counter, then just lying around randomly.

He would deal with that later.

Daniel put his game face on and march into Sam's room. He grabbed the male arm slung over the side of the bed and yanked, pulling the young stranger to the floor. He was awake before he hit the ground and shouted.

He jumped up, grabbing part of the sheet to cover himself. "What the fuck, man! Who the fuck are you!"

"Get out," Daniel said in a dark voice. It wasn't a suggestion. It was a command.

"Now you listen here," the stranger started.

Daniel was not surprised that Sam said nothing, just watched silently from the bed. He turned around, went to the top drawer of the dresser and pulled out the pistol he knew Sam kept there. He pulled back the bolt as he turned and fully extended his arm towards the man. "I said _get out_." Daniel knew as soon as he picked it up that the weapon was empty, but the other man didn't know that.

The stranger grabbed his clothes, strewn across the floor and jumped into his boxers. "Psycho bitch," he muttered under his breath as he stepped into his jeans, still making his way down the hall.

Daniel lowered the gun and looked at Sam. She sat in her bed, elbows loosely around her knees and the blanket pulled up over her nude body. They were silent as they heard a car door open, slam closed, a car start and pull out of her driveway. He turned back around, getting into the dresser and pulled out an oversized t-shirt. He threw it over his shoulder at Sam.

"Put that on," he said, glancing over his shoulder. He put her pistol back in it's place and looked for the clip. It wasn't there. Maybe Sam hid it from herself so she wouldn't be able to kill herself in a drunken rage. Maybe. Maybe she simply lost it.

When he turned back around, she was wearing the shirt and had pulled on a pair of lounge pants. He stared at her.

She shot him a wrathful glare. "Don't even start." She marched past him, out of the room. No doubt on her way to the kitchen and more alcohol.

"Do you see what's going on here?" he asked in an angry tone, following her.

"Yes, _Dad_," she mocked him. Sam started picking up bottles, trying to figure out which one - if any - still had liquid in it. She found one and took a swig, shooting him another glare as she leaned against the counter.

"I never though I'd say this to someone: but you are _damn_ lucky your father is dead. If saw you and who you are now, he'd kill you."

She flashed a sarcastic, sadistic smile. "Look's like I'm doing it for him," she hissed, taking another gulp of whiskey.

Daniel stared, unable to think. She was slowly killing herself, and she knew it. "I can't believe you're doing this to yourself," he finally said in a quiet voice.

"You don't know what it's like, Daniel," she hissed.

Her words stung him like scorpion. He paused for a second before slowly repeating her. "_I don't know what it's like_."

She froze as a realization came over her.

Sha're.

"Oh my god, Daniel, I'm so sorry."

He didn't respond.

She looked at the bottle in her hand, then around the room, then back to her hand. She almost threw the bottle onto the countertop. "What have I done?" Her hand covered her mouth as tears started to drip down her face. "What have I become?"

He took a few long strides to close the gap between them and she practically fell into his arms. She buried her head in his shoulder as the tears came. She started to shake. Daniel helped her down into one of the kitchen chairs before her legs gave out.

She gasped for breath.

"Daniel, what happened to me?" she buried her face in her hands. "I used to be good."

He took her hands from her face and pressed them to his lips. "You're still good, Sam. You've just made some bad choices. But it's not too late to change. It's not too late to be okay again."

She fell onto him again, draping her arms over his shoulders and tucking her face into his neck. "I never told him," she sobbed.

He brought his arms up and rubbed her back. "I know," he whispered. He placed a kiss to her hair. "I know."

- . - . -

She woke up to the smell of bacon. She felt awful. She knew it was probably because she hadn't had any alcohol in 48 hours. She and Daniel had thrown it all out. They then started to clean up her house, a little.

They would pause whenever her alcohol deprived mind would drift back to the man in her memories. She would collapse to a heap on the floor, propped up against the wall or a piece of furniture and cry until it passed. Then the tears would drip down her face as they continued, until she caught a glimpse of a team photo.

Especially the one where she stood between Daniel and Teal'c, their arms around her shoulder and her arms around their waists. She was laughing in the picture because the Colonel, standing on the other side of Daniel, had reached around and tickled her ribs.

It had probably been the most intimate way he had ever touched her. It came and went and no one had noticed. No one had mentioned that it was probably one step on the wrong side of the line.

She got up out of bed, throwing on her bathrobe and a pair of slippers. She walked into her kitchen to find Daniel at the table with the morning paper and a cup of coffee. Teal'c stood at her stove with an apron on and a spatula in one hand. He turned, mostly likely on hearing her approach, his apron said _Kiss the Cook_. "Good morning, Major Carter."

"Good morning, Teal'c." She gave him and smile and a quick kiss on the cheek before grabbing her coffee cup, filling it, and taking her seat next to Daniel at the table. He had pulled out the Life section for her.

She watched her two friends for a moment, both acting very domestically in her home. Tears started to drip down her face. She had no domestic memories of the man who now only existed in her mind.

Daniel reached over and grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly. She met his warm gaze and gentle smile. She wiped her eyes and returned the smile. Teal'c placed a platter on the table before sitting down. It had several slices of bacon and a stack of pancakes.

She wiped her tears again as Teal'c dished her a pair of pancakes, a slice of bacon and passed her the syrup. Daniel was right, it hadn't been too late to change. It was hard, but it wasn't too late.

- . - . -

Teal'c and Sam bade goodnight to Daniel, who was going to his own home for the night for the first time in a few days. Teal'c would watch over her.

That night, when she drifted off to sleep, the man in her memories came alive. They stood in a ice cave; the one in Antarctica. She wondered why they were there.

He smiled. He was wearing a button down blue shirt over a long sleeve white tee and khaki pants. She had never seen him in anything like it, but it looked perfect.

She opened her mouth to speak, but had no words. He closed the gap between them and placed his fingers on her lips. Her mouth slid closed.

"I know, Samantha," he said. "You never said it, and I neither did I. But I know."

He took one of her hands in his as the other cupped her face. His thumb wiped the tears from her eye. "I'm not gonna say it, because I don't need to. And I don't want to hear you say anything, because I don't need to."

He leaned forward and kissed her closed eyes before placing the sweetest kiss on her lips.

When she opened her eyes, he was gone. She was lying in her bed at home, her eyes moist. She looked around the dark room, and barely found her voice "I love you, Jack O'Neill."

- . - - - . -


	26. What She Deserves

Alternatives

What She Deserves

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: G

- RMI - Based on everyone's favorite "somehow-their-child-from-another-reality-shows-up-and-they-start-a-relationship-so-they-can-raise-the-child" fanfiction storyline. Season 8. -

- . - - - . -

"Who is it?" Jack asked Walter, looking at closed iris of the unscheduled offworld activation.

The loud thud of something impacting the iris startled everyone in the room.

"What was that?"

"I don't know, Sir," Walter said, checking his screens. "Sir, it's one of our Welcome Boxes," he corrected himself. "They all have a specific isotope we recognize."

"Well, open the iris before the next thud is a person."

"Opening the iris, defense teams stand by," Walter said as the iris opened.

The iris opened and a man came through, carrying something. The teams stood fast, waiting for the word or a threatening move.

The man collapsed and an all too familiar but seldom heard sound filled the gateroom, a baby's cry.

"Stand down!" Jack yelled repeatedly, rushing to the gateroom, barely hearing Walter call for a medical team.

One of the SF's had turned over the man and picked up the baby, whom he was trying to quiet. The baby, who was maybe seven to nine months, if Jack was any judge, saw him and cried out. She struggled against the airman, desperately trying to reach him. He put out his arms and took the girl. She clung to him, wailing incoherently.

When one of the other airman rolled the man over, Jack was shocked to see his face, Major Paul Davis.

- . - . -

Jack stood in the infirmary, holding the baby that came through the gate with Davis. She was asleep with her little blonde head on his shoulder now, but had panicked every time he tried to hand her off to someone or put her down. He was looking around, trying to decide what to do. He couldn't just set her down on a gurney and walk away.

Doctor Brightman came over to him. "Sir, Major Davis is awake."

He started towards the bed where Davis had been recovering for the past hour or so, but stopped when he remembered the baby. "Can you," he nodded to the baby "hold this?"

"Of course, Sir," she took her from him. Thankfully, she remained asleep.

Davis was partially reclined, on oxygen, and hooked up to multiple meters and an IV.

"I have so many questions for you, Davis, I don't even know where to start. So, we're going to go with who are you, where'd you come from, and what's with the kid?"

"I am Lieutenant Colonel Paul Davis, United States Air Force, and I work for you, Sir, on SG-1. I came from an alternate reality. Don't ask me how I got here, that Carter's doing."

"Samantha Carter?" Jack asked.

Davis nodded. "Yes, Sir. And the baby is yours."

"Mine?" he repeated. "Who's her mom?" Perhaps that wasn't the most important question he could have asked, but it was the first thing that came to his mind.

Davis stared, utterly confused that Jack at the question. "Yours and Doctor Carter's."

- . - . -

Sam sat with General O'Neill at the bar in his house, watching Daniel play on the floor with the little girl that was supposedly their daughter; well was their daughter. The girl responded well to him, squealing in delight and babbling at him. Teal'c supervised from the couch.

They were quiet from some time.

"I want her," he said quietly.

"Me too," she agreed just as softly.

"She deserves a normal life."

She chuckled. "As normal as we can give her."

"We," he repeated.

"I don't want her to be raised by divorced parents. I don't want to have to fight for weekends." For the first time in several minutes, they looked at each other. She knew he knew what she meant. She meant that she wanted to raise her together, as a family. "We don't have to be together together," she said, dropping her eyes. "At least, not right away," she amended quickly, not wanting to close that door too soon.

"You can move into the guest room and we can turn the office into a nursery, then we can take it from there."

"You have an office?" she asked with a smile.

"Yeah, it's where I do my taxes. That and play minesweeper."

She laughed.

"What about Pete?" he asked.

She took a deep breath. "I . . . I gotta tell him that it's over."

"Carter . . ." he started, not finishing because he obviously didn't know what to say.

Sam knew that he was trying to give her the opportunity to not have to break off a serious relationship, a good relationship. But, at that moment, Pete didn't come close. "I think we should call each other by our first names, Jack."

"Are you sure about this?" he asked.

She nodded. "It's not a difficult decision, she's my baby."

After another few moments of silence, he spoke. "I'll call Hayes in the morning and see what the options are. I'm sure there won't be any issues working our way around things."

"I'll talk to Pete tonight. There's no need to drag that out any longer."

Without saying anything else, she got up and walked over to Daniel and her baby. Sam picked her up, and was rewarded with a happy squeal, "Ma!"

Sam grinned from ear to ear and laughed. It was very possible that that word had just been the syllable to chance out of her daughter's mouth, but maybe she really did recognize her as her mother. Either way, Sam loved it, so she took the opportunity to nibble on her daughter's cheek, causing her to giggle and squeal.

Sam kissed her and squeezed her tight. "I'll be back later. You be good for Daddy and Uncle Daniel and Teal'c, okay?" Daddy, she liked saying that.

Her daughter babbled something in response. Sam kissed her again and handed her back to Daniel. She headed towards the door, she had a conversation to have.

- . - . -

Pete opened the door with a smile on his face. "Sam!" he was excited to see her.

"Pete, we need to talk."

His smile faded. "Okay," he said, letting her into his apartment. They sat down on the couch. "Can I get you something?"

She shook her head, collecting her thoughts. "Pete, you know my job's weird, right?"

He chuckled. "That's the understatement of the century."

She smiled, "Yeah." Sam took a deep breath. "This morning a friend if mine showed up from an alternate reality. He brought someone with him, my daughter."

Pete's mouth dropped open.

"In the reality he came from, Samantha Carter and Jack O'Neill had a baby. They were attacked by the Goa'uld and he was the first sent through. They were going to send through more. He doesn't know why no one followed him. But the point is that we're not sending the baby back."

He nodded slowly, waiting for her to continue.

"The General - Jack - and I want to raise her as a family." She paused. That was it. That was the bombshell. She waited for him to respond.

"You mean together," he said after several long seconds of silence. "The two of you."

"It's not that I don't love you," she said at last. "I do, a lot."

"But you love him more," he said with more than a little bitterness.

"No!" she replied forcefully, looking him in the eyes. "No," she softened her tone. "I love her more."

He sighed, whether in defeat or acceptance she really couldn't tell. "You're making the right choice, Sam. Your daughter deserves more than every other weekend."

"Thank you," she whispered, relief washing over her.

"For what?"

"For understanding." She smiled and kissed his lips.

They stood and he walked her to the door. "Good luck, Sam." He hugged her tight and kissed her cheek and she left.

Sam took a deep breath as the door closed behind her and she turned home, to her . . . Jack, and her baby.

- . - - - . -


End file.
